


The Choices We Make

by thedevil_andgod



Series: Choices - Divergent [1]
Category: Divergent Series - Veronica Roth
Genre: AU, F/M, Minor Character Death, Multi, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-23
Updated: 2016-07-09
Packaged: 2018-03-19 04:43:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 36
Words: 63,014
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3596802
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thedevil_andgod/pseuds/thedevil_andgod
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alexis Young is a seventeen year old girl, who has no clue what her future holds. With five factions to choose from, she fears that she won't belong in any of them. A strange encounter on the morning of the test that will tell her where she belongs may just sway her decision on Choosing Day, but with a twin brother who isn't the most emotionally stable of people who wishes to choose differently, will she make a choice based on her needs, or her family's?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A Strange Encounter

**Author's Note:**

> This is a TOTAL Divergent AU. In this, Divergent's are not hunted, and there is a place which I call the inter-faction community, where people can marry out of their factions (but still work there etc) and/or raise their children as multiple factions. (Which is my MC's home). This could go completely, utterly wrong, but hey, you never gonna know if you don't try! I hope you all enjoy this first chapter, and I will add more tags/character tags as necessary.

The sun has barely risen over the distant horizon, smudges of pale pink and soft orange spreading like water colors on the edge of the blue canvas. The air is cool, a slight breeze dances around, causing the leaves on the branches overhead to rustle quietly. Today is the day I will sit my aptitude test, and discover which faction I am suited for the most.  
Will I be Dauntless, brave and strong?  
Will I be Candor, painfully honest?  
Will I be Amity, peaceful and kind?  
Will I be Abnegation, selfless, generous?  
Or maybe Erudite, intelligent, brilliantly so. 

A part of me is terrified that I am none of those things. That I am perhaps an aberration, and there is something wrong deep down inside of me, something broken, which will defy all expectations and show that I am do not fit in anywhere. This thought is the reason I am awake at five in the morning, hidden away in the cluster of trees that separate's Amity's borders from the inter-faction community, watching a deep river making its way slowly down towards the lake in Amity.  
A lustrous, green field glows emerald in the early morning light on the other side, stretching out as far as the eye can see, ending at the large white fence surrounding our city. It was designed to keep us safe from the places in our world that never recovered from humanity's last, brutal war.  
My mind's churning out a billion thoughts per second, running in circles and I cannot seem to pin any one single line of coherency down, to focus on. This test is supposed to give insight to what it is we are truly made of. Who we are, and who we could be. I am not so sure that I want to find out. 

The sound of twigs snapping in the background startles me. Turning my neck, I see a tall figure, clad in black, making its way to the clearing, towards me. I watch the person get closer, eventually determining it to be A, a man, and B, a Dauntless. He has various tattoos along his neck and piercings stabbed through his lip and brow. His eyes are cold and grey as he watches me, making me a little uncomfortable. He wears tight black jeans and a thick hooded jacket, clinging to his torso and showing off every band of muscle in his chest and biceps. He's probably here for the test, to administer it, or keep an eye on the Dauntless born's, but I wonder why he is here, and at such an awful hour of the morning. Then, I realize that I don't really care, and, after weighing my chances of being murdered, I turn back to my previous position and watch outlines of birds flying high in the sky. 

'Don't you have an aptitude test to take today?' His voice is deep and rough, a steely undertone running through his words. I laugh, humorlessly. 'Later on, yeah.'  
'What are you doing up at 5AM? I would have thought most teenagers would be still asleep.'  
I don't answer, instead bowing my head to watch the water trickling slowly by, wishing I could simply slip down between the soft ripples and completely disappear.  
'I asked you a question.'  
'I heard. But what I do is none of your business.' I turn my head to glance up at him, watching a mean smirk curling across his lips. He moves closer, and sits himself on the grass beside me.  
'True. But I don't like being refused.'  
Sighing, I rip a few blades of grass from the ground and begin threading them together. 'We don't always have the luxury of getting what we want in this world. Maybe it's time you learned to be refused.' 

He stiffens, and I think, _oh shit, I've pissed him off_.  
'You know I'm a Dauntless leader?' He asks, quietly, icy cold.  
'You know I'm inter-faction?' My voice is softer but I put pressure behind the words, a warning, that I will not give in to his queries.  
'Until tomorrow,' He muses, leaning back on his elbows. He appears to have relaxed all of a sudden. I watch him suspiciously out of the corner of my eye, not liking the dramatic change in emotion. 

'Yeah,' I breathe out, trying to get a grip on my scattered thoughts.  
'You don't sound very excited.' 'Were you?' The question takes us both by surprise; I did not intend on asking it, but I did.  
He pauses. 'Yes. I couldn't wait to get out.' He stops speaking abruptly, features hardening.  
'You weren't a dauntless born,' I state the obvious, and he nods.  
I scan him, thinking deeply. Narrowing my eyes, I see him suddenly shift a little where he sits, as though my scrutiny has made him self conscious.  
'Erudite or Candor.' I decide, watching his pierced eyebrow lifting curiously. 'Probably Erudite.' I add on, and watch as his face lifts in surprise.  
'How could you tell?'  
I shrug, smiling wanly. 'It's a gift.' I joke absently, debating with myself on whether or not I should ask another question, purposely this time.  
He's chuckling lightly at my sarcasm, so I inhale deeply and blurt it out. 

'Did you know?'  
He stops laughing, brow furrowing in confusion. 'What?'  
'Did you know you were going to leave Erudite?' The rest of the question hangs in the air between us, unspoken. _Even before your test?_  
There is no hesitation in his reply this time. 'Yes.' 

Now it is my turn to be confused. 'How?' How could anyone be sure, before their test? My friends, my brother, are convinced they know where they belong. They say they can feel in their hearts, that they know who they are. Maybe I just don't know myself well enough.  
'I just didn't belong in Erudite. I always knew that. I envied the Dauntless, growing up. They always seemed so free and strong. So, when I tested for Dauntless, it just confirmed what I'd been thinking about anyway.' 

Biting my lip, I wait for the question I know is coming.  
'Do you know?'  
'No. And I don't think I want to.' I admit, for the first time ever.  
He sits forward, interested.  
'Why not?' 

Considering my words carefully, I string them together in a manner which I hope will make sense..'Because, what if I'm not anything?'  
'What do you mean?'  
Okay, no, it didn't make sense. But my face was flushing deeply, my heart pounding against my ribs almost painfully and I couldn't think of any way to explain the jumble of fears inside of me. What if I didn't belong in the system? What if I had to be factionless? Nothing against them personally, but when I passed one on the street, they seemed like zombies, with empty eyes and dirty clothes hanging from their frail bodies. It was not a life I wanted.  
It was not a life at all.  
Pressing my palms tightly together, I shake my head. 'It doesn't matter. Ignore me, I'm just being stupid.

Silence stretches out between us, but it is comfortable, and I stare at my lap while he considers something.  
'Everyone is something.' He says, finally. 'Those who are not part of the faction system have chosen so themselves.'  
I jump, eyes widening as I meet the man's gaze. It's as though he has read my mind. At the same time, I realize that he isn't exactly a man. He looks young despite the muscles and body modifications and the title. I wonder how long it's been since he was my age.  
I nod, showing that I understood what he had said. No one was born without at least one dominant trait, this was common knowledge and I always knew my fear was irrational, but it stayed with me all the same.  
'It's just..what if I'm not good enough for any it? What if I'm not brave enough, kind enough, smart enough, selfless enough, honest enough?'  
'You are. Just because you can't see it, doesn't mean its not there. The test will give you a clearer view of what choices you really have, and when the time comes to choose, you will know what to do. I promise.'  
I face this stranger, tall and terrifying and cold, who has suddenly offered me advice in the softest tone I have ever heard anyone speak in. Swallowing hard, I nod, turning over his words in my mind. 

'Thank you,' I say shyly, and he shrugs.  
'Don't stress it. Just remember, go for what feels right.' 

Pushing himself to his feet, he extends a large hand for me. I take it, marveling at the warm, calloused skin as he pulls me up swiftly. He squeezes my fingers for a moment, before letting go and heading back from where he came. Halting near the edge of where the trees began to thicken, he turns. 'And who knows?' He calls back. 'Maybe I'll see you tomorrow, in Dauntless.' He smiles, a genuine, pleasant smile that makes my stomach flip as it brightens his handsome features. I find myself returning the smile without thinking. 'Maybe you will.' I agree, watching his retreating back getting further and further away before disappearing completely.


	2. Testing Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _I am left following a tall, graceful woman in Abnegation grey. In another other faction, I think she could have been beautiful._

Gabriel is still snoring softly in his bed when I arrive home. The corners of his mouth are turned down, showing his distress even while unconscious. I watch him for while, feeling helpless. I wish there was something I could do to take his pain away, to make everything better. To erase the events of the last four years and go back to how things were before. 

He's never liked change, our Gabe. Even as a kid, he found it stressful, difficult to assimilate into a new environment. Like when we moved from first class to second, and got a new teacher in the form of Mr. Breslin. For the first year, we had Mrs. Moore, a kind Amity woman with a soft voice. She wore long skirts and woollen jumpers with long gold chains hanging from her neck. With smooth ebony skin and arms that opened wide to welcome any child that fell over in the playground and came running, sniffling and crying, she was one of the best teachers an infant could ask for. 

Mr. Breslin originated from Erudite, and became Dauntless following his aptitude test. He was a lot stricter and tried to teach us the importance of courage and strength. He was a good teacher, animated when he spoke about sports and English and math and basically any subject. Every Friday evening, he'd seat us on the floor and switch off the lights, pull down the blinds and join our circle, and begin a story. The tale was continued from child to child, travelling around every one of us until an exciting climax was reached. I adored him. Really, I did. Gabriel.. Not so much. Where Mrs.Moore understood that Gabriel was the shyer of us both, and tended to prefer to stay close to me, Mr.Breslin was big on independence and on the first day, separated us, at different desks with different partners. I didn't mind, I was much bolder when it came to social situations, more comfortable around new people. Needless to say, he threw a fit. Kicking, screaming, tears pouring down his flushed cheeks. He screamed at the teacher and ran from the room, and when I tried to follow him the teacher forbade me from leaving. I explained that I was the only one who could calm him down, but no one listens to a six year old kid.  
One of the boys in my class - Peter - started laughing, calling Gabe a wimp, a baby, mimicking him cruelly.  
I punched him in the face. No one ever bothered me or my brother again.  
It's not every day a second class girl gets suspended for assaulting another pupil.

With everything that's happened in the past four years, Gabe has become quieter, more withdrawnnthan ever. He's an introvert through and through, but lately he's been spending more and more time holed up in our room. It worries me.  
Especially since tomorrow is Choosing Day, and I don't have any idea of what faction he could be thinking about entering. There was a time we could finish each other's sentences, read the others mind, communicate with a glance. Now, I wonder what's going through his head.  
It scares me. I've already lost brother. I can't lose my twin. I can't.  
I won't. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
The school is full to the brim for this years tests, the gym hall overflowing with all the colours of the rainbow. Black clad dauntless swinging from the assault course set up in the corner, Erudite's sitting at tables with their glasses pushed up along their noses, studying from various books. Black and White Candor's grouped together, arguing senselessly, bright Amity's playing music and singing quietly in a corner, wearing relaxed, carefree smiles as they away to the melody. The Abnegation sit quietly, along the room's periphery, hands clasped in their laps, heads down.  
Then there's us, the inter faction children, milling around and settling seamlessly into the groups of friends we've formed, in other factions or all together.  
My best friend Jay sits on the floor beside me, my head on his lap as his molten caramel hands comb my hair gently. He's an Amity kid, caring and kind, but with a fierce temper. The fiercest I've ever seen from a faction based on peace.

Gabriel is curled up next to me, baggy jeans hanging loose on his frame. As Jay's second name is Duffy, he's called in long before us. Slowly, the students trickle out, like a tiny leak in a big ship. We are one of the last to be called, and when we are I notice the anxiety written clear as day across my brother's face. I take his hand, squeezing it tightly. 'Hey.' I whisper quietly as I meet his gaze. 'We're going to be just fine. Deep breaths..' I remind him gently, taking the lead with a big, slow inhale. 'It'll be over before we know it.' He manages a small smile, brushing his chin length hair from his face. We're split in two, led down different corridors by different people. A Candor adult in an impeccable white suit brings Gabe, while I am left following a tall, graceful woman in Abnegation grey. We enter a small room, a mirror stretching along one wall just on the inside of the door. I notice how she ignores it determinedly, remembering that, in Abnegation, looking at yourself is thought to be vain, and self indulgent. I give myself a quick once over, noting the purple shadows beneath my tired eyes, the tight braid tugging painfully on my scalp. The jeans I wear are in stark contrast to Gabriel - while he swamps himself in thick, baggy clothes, mine are tight and form fitting, the waistband cutting into my stomach uncomfortably. The woman clears her throat, and smiles, patting the reclining chair positioned next to a computer. I hop on, careful not to lean back just yet.  
'Hello. My name is Natalie, I will be administering your test today. Just relax, and remember there is nothing to be scared of.' Her voice is soothing, and it seems like a sort of calming aura surrounds her willowy frame. I nod, swallowing hard. My mouth has dried up, and I can't quite decide whether or not I should speak. I settle for watching Natalie, typing away on a computer at lightening speed. In another other faction, I think she could have been beautiful. She has a youthful complexion, with kind eyes, silky brown hair knotted at the nape of her neck. Those kind eyes seem older than the rest of her, however. Like she has seen a lot in her lifetime, her eyes tell stories from days long past.  
Her hands are soft against my heated skin as she attaches thin wires to my temples, electrodes sticking to the thin membrane of flesh. She hands me a small vial of dark blue liquid, reminiscent of the Dauntless man's cool eyes, from earlier this morning. I take a suspicious sniff and frown slightly.   
'What is it?' I ask, but all I get in reply is a content smile.   
Sighing, I steel myself for the worst, and down the tasteless drink in one quick gulp. A few seconds pass slowly, as the ceiling distorts and seems to melt away, my reflection in the mirror opposite fading away into a meaningless, white blur. My eyelids droop, limbs becoming heavy, and darkness reaches out a hand, pulling me under, to discover the mysteries that await me now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two chapters, in basically the same day.. I am on a roll! I have a huge plot for this story, so I can only hope it gains enough followers for me to continue it! So, bit of back story on Alexis and her twin.. There's still a lot of mystery about what has happened them, so I hope you're all curious enough to keep reading to find out. This is unbeta'd, so apologies for any mistakes. I edited one out of the first chapter, where I accidentally had Alexis use Eric's name when he hadn't even introduced himself! So to clarify, she does not know Eric, that was a silly mistake of my own. Comments/Kudos are what I live off, ha, so if you're enjoying/not enjoying this so far, please do leave some constructive criticism! 
> 
> Disclaimer; I do not own Divergent or its characters created Veronica Roth, just the plot and my own characters.


	3. Choose

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _my reflection smiles contentedly in the glass, a stark contrast to my own puzzled features. it's slightly disconcerting, to see yourself reflected back with a totally different expression._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter isn't my best work, I struggled with the testing scene so it's quite short, but the next one will be easier to write. comments/kudos are like cookies :) (again, unbeta'd, sorry for any mistakes!)

I wake up standing. I'm not sure how that happened.   
Glancing around I realise I'm back in the gym, but it is now empty, and covered wall to wall with mirrors like the one in the testing room.   
My reflection twists and turns as I do, trying to figure out exactly what it is I'm supposed to do.   
'Choose.' I jump, startled, when every mirror image disappears except for the one directly in front of me, which begins to speak.   
My reflection smiles contentedly in the glass, a stark contrast to my own puzzled features. It's slightly disconcerting, to see yourself reflected back with a totally different expression.  
'What?'  
'Choose.' The voice - my voice - booms loud and clear around me, as I suddenly see two wooden stands, one to my left, with a slab of bloody, raw meat and the other with a shiny silver knife glinting menacingly in the fluorescent lightning. I have to choose one of the these. For a moment I wonder where each choice may lead me, but then my hand darts out and picks up the cool, heavy blade. My doppelgänger disappears into nothing, along with the tables. A low growl alerts me to the presence of large dog. It crawls towards me, head low, almost resting on the floor. Yellow teeth stick out against the matted brown fur, thick saliva dripping from the sabre sharp jaws.   
It pounces, flying towards me in a blur. My natural instincts kick in, taking over my mind and raising the knife high into the air.   
There's a sickening tearing noise, when the blade slices through fur and flesh and bone. A pitiful whimper follows the animal to the ground, where it curls up, blood spilling from the gaping wound.   
I drop the knife, sickened at the gore.   
Everything disappears before the slick knife hits the floor, and there's a child tugging desperately at my arm, sobbing hysterically. The girl has red hair in two neat braids and piercing blue eyes that almost hurt to look at. When she points behind me I hear a loud, throaty cackle. A man dressed in rags smiles toothlessly from about ten feet away, he is bald, with a crazed shine in his eyes and a scar twisting his mouth down at the corners. 'Give me the child and no one gets hurt.' He croaks out, while the little girl covers her face with both hands and cowers away. I shield her with my body, tensing immediately.   
'No.'   
The mans droopy smile morphs into a twisted snarl, hobbling closer as anger overtakes his features.   
'Give me the girl. She's my daughter and I need to take her home!'   
Gritting my teeth I shuffle backwards, one hand on the kids shoulder.  
'No she's not.' I argue, never breaking eye contact with this dishevelled, disgusting man. 'She's my sister, and you're not our father. Go away.'   
I can't believe how strong my voice is, how none of my limbs tremble in fear. I could be in grave danger, for protecting this child, this stranger, and yet I am willing to lie unashamedly for her. I am suddenly six years old again, in the classroom as my brother is mocked by an ignorant bully. I feel the same things I did back then; the urge to protect, no matter the cost. Nan  
'She is not your sister! GIVE ME THE GIRL!' He lunges forward suddenly, arms outstretched, as though he intends to simply scoop her up and do a runner. I wond my own arm back, pushing through the air with my entire body, sinking a closed fist punch into the bony jaw. There's a crack, and a shout, and the world turns black. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~  
I shoot up in the chair, back in the testing room. Natalie is smiling, of course - does she always smile? Is that an unwritten rule of Abnegation's? Never frown or show upset, it's too indulgent to humour ones own pain? 

I find that I am breathing heavily, as though I have recently exerted myself instead of simply sitting on a chair, lost in a simulated experience.   
'Well done. You reacted very quickly to the situations in the test, which is why it was so short. You clearly belong in Dauntless. Congratulations.' 

Dauntless. The moment the word leaves her lips, I am floored with relief.   
I belong somewhere.   
I belong with the _brave_.

As I'm walking down the familiar corridors, heading outside to meet up with Jay and Gabriel, a sudden thought halts me. 

Dauntless is the home of the brave, those who are not afraid to stand up for those who cannot stand up for themselves. My test has proven that I could fit in there, that maybe, just maybe, I was made to fit in there.   
But the real test will come tomorrow, when I'm standing in front of the six bowls at the Choosing ceremony. To choose Dauntless means to leave my parents, and my brother. After what happened with our eldest sibling, I don't think mom or dad expect either of us to transfer at all. Can I put them through that again?   
The dauntless motto, like I've already said, is the courage to stand up for those who can't do it themselves. But how am I supposed to do that, when I'm not sure I can even stand up for myself?


	4. Be Selfish (Be Brave)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _But perhaps now it's time I learned to be whole, all by myself._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The usual notes; unbeta'd, apologies for any mistakes - if anyone would like to beta, you contact me on my tumblr (just-a-story-and-stories-end). I would be super grateful! 
> 
> I do not own Divergent or its characters, just the plot and characters of my own creation.

Outside, the day has grown warmer as the hours have passed. My watch reads half past one, which means I've been in the school for four and a half hours. It's like I'm walking along the air one minute, excited and happy and floating along the relief. The next, I'm dragged down like there are heavy shackles tied around my ankles, one in the shape of my mother, the other of my father. Guilt seeps into my heart as I realise I feel that my parents hold me down. They've always supported me, been strict only when the occasion called for it, held me when I was ill, sang me to sleep at night, carried me when I was too weak to carry myself. They've passed that trait along to me, as I would carry Gabe forever if I could, would step in front of a speeding train if it meant he would live long and happy.  
But after Michael left for Erudite, things changed. Mom became more clingy, asking us to spend the weekends at home or at the shopping mall with her, having family dinners out and getting upset whenever either of us wanted to go out with friends. I think I took that part harder than Gabe did, as he didn't leave the house much. I was more used to basically living in Jay's house over weekends, waking up Sunday morning hungover and unable to remember anything from Friday evening. I got angrier, and soon the tense atmosphere escalated into full on screaming matches happening on the daily. I accused mum of suffocating me, she asked was it too much to want to spend time with her children?  
I said no, but that I was a teenager, and I needed time to see my friends, to actually have a social life. And then I said the words I will regret for the rest of my life, each syllable tasted bitter on my lips when I spat them out like bullets, intent on hitting my mother where it would hurt the most.  
_''Maybe if you gave us some fucking breathing space every now again, Michael never would have left!'' ___  
Even now, an arrow of self hatred pierces my heart whenever I think of that day. The look on mums face, like she couldn't have been more upset had I full on slapped her. Dad cut in and said enough was enough, and sent me to my room.  
Gabriel watched me quietly from his bed, while I sat with my back to the door and held back the tears that had been fighting for escape for weeks.  
'Do you really believe it's our parents fault? That Michael went?'  
I sighed, bringing my knees to my chest and resting my forehead against my arms. 'No. Of course not.'  
At the time I wasn't sure if I meant that. Part of me wondered if it really was down to mom and dad, Michael's abrupt departure. Perhaps he was sick of me and Gabriel, the irritating younger siblings could never get away from.  
Now I know it was no ones fault, that he made his own decisions like I must now make mine. I spent a long time hating him for abandoning us, especially after the accident in the barn - but I've recently decided to forget all about him.  
I haven't seen him in years, now. I have Gabriel, I have Jay, I have my parents. And even if, by some miracle, I find the courage to choose Dauntless tomorrow, I won't let myself slip away from them. I won't give up so easy. 

___~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~_  
Tonight, we eat mine and Gabriel's favourite dinner, four cheese lasagna and garlic bread dripping with butter. An unspoken question lingers in the air throughout; _'how did the test go?'_  
We're not supposed to talk about it, not to any one. I was going to ask Gabe, but the look in his eyes when I came out told me that maybe it's best to leave it along. It was difficult, but I have to let him make his own choices, decide his own fate. He's not a kid, no younger than me. I have to trust him, so I do.  
Jay gave me a wink when I glanced his way on the bus home, when I raised a questioning brow he simply grinned and leaned back in his seat. This has intrigued me, and I spend most of the meal thinking about what Jay's test results could have been. He was born Amity, but never quite seemed to fit in. In turn, I contemplate my own test result, wondering if I can convince myself, between now and morning, to go ahead and prove to myself that I can be dauntless, by choosing it at the ceremony.  
Gabriel is miles away, resting his cheek on one hand while the other holds his fork. Pushing his food back and forwards across the plate, he sighs deeply and takes a sip of milk, meeting my eyes across the table.  
I tilt my head to the side, twin speak for _are you okay?_  
He nods reassuringly and mom asks if he's feeling unwell.  
'You've barely touched your food.'  
'I'm fine, Mom. I'm just not really very hungry.' He says apologetically, and she nods, while dad clears his throat.  
We direct our attention his way and there's a glint in his eye that makes me tense my fists, hiding them in my lap. Anxiety fills my lungs and squeezes the oxygen out. Does he know I'm thinking of leaving? 

'Tomorrow, is the day of your choosing ceremony. I'd like to take a moment to tell you how proud I am of both of you, for your academic achievements, but most of all for growing into the strong, beautiful, smart young adults you are today. I know that you had to wait an extra year to finish school, and that you're both a little nervous about being older than the rest of your classmates, but just remember that it was a situation which was completely out of your control. You've handled the past few years so well, and so maturely. I am extremely proud to be your father, as your mother is to be your mother.' She smiles tensely, blue eyes darting around the room, looking everywhere except at us. Placing a slim hand on Dad's arm, she squeezes it gently, before he continues. 'Also, I'd like you to know that we love you, unconditionally. No matter where you choose to continue your lives tomorrow, we will always be your parents. We will always be here for you. Faction before blood is a good motto, but many don't take it too seriously anymore.' Except the Erudite, I think bitterly. 'Remember that we will support you, whatever you decide. Don't be afraid to follow your heart. Don't make your choice based on what you think your mother and I would want.' I look to Gabriel, a little taken aback by dads little motivational speech. He doesn't meet my gaze, but seems to be deeply considering what dad has just told us. I tell dad I love him, I tell mom the same. Gabriel says the same, and then we offer to do the dishes. I fetch some thin stemmed wine glasses, pouring a good measure of deep crimson liquid in each. Gabriel brings them in while I fill up the sink with water, and soapy suds from the washing up liquid. White froth bubbles up into a soft, porous mountain, wobbling precariously in the steel basin. I wash, Gabe dries. It's the way we've always done this, in perfect sync with one another. As children, we used to hold each other's wrist, thumbs against the fragile skin where the pulse beat just beneath, making sure they beat at the same pace. The room is silent as I scrub away at pots and pans, soft grey vest top hanging loosely off my frame. The low buzz of the telly drifts in from the hallway, where the sitting room door has been left ajar. We work quietly for a while, nothing but the sound of sloshing water and the clack of ceramic on ceramic as the plates are stacked and put away. Gabriel turns to the fridge, searching through. I carefully wash the clear crystal lasagna dish, rinsing off the suds. I slide it onto the draining board, shaking my hands to rid the grimy water from my skin. Of course, this is the moment my brother decides to turn back around, and ends up covered in soap suds. Blinking in shock, he glares at me. I giggle. 'I'm so sorry,' I begin, biting the inside of my cheeks. 'It was an accident, I didn't mean to..' Gabriel lifts an eyebrow, nodding emphatically. 'Oh? Oh, really, you didn't mean to do it?' I shake my head as he talks, peaks of laughter still escaping from my mouth. 'Oh, that's okay then, here let me just put the dish away-' He leans past me, long arms reaching for the sink. Before I can react, he's dipped in his fingers into the water and flicked it all over ME. Shrieking indignantly, I smack him with the rolled up, damp towel. He pokes his tongue out, and I splash more water onto Gabe's top. 'Alex!' He yells in annoyance, and creates a wave with both hands, soaking me and himself, and also the floor and surrounding countertop.  
'This is war,' I whisper seriously, reaching for a bottle of water - but a shriek from the doorway snaps us out of our stupid little water fight, and we duck our heads in shame as mom chides us for making such a mess. 'Sorry,' we mumble, avoiding each other's eyes, for fear of bursting into laughter. It takes longer to clean up the extra mess, and then there's a fight, hunger games style, over who gets the shower first. I win, pointing out that my hair is long, almost to my waist and therefore takes more time to dry after washing it. 'Don't use all the hot water,' he grumbles as I grab a couple of towels before locking the door to our small ensuite. Shaking my hair from its ponytail, I strip, shedding the damp clothes and letting them pool at my feet, kicking them near the laundry basket. As soon as I step under the warm spray, it's like I feel my worries beading up along my skin and washing away down the drain. I go through my shower routine, step by step, the knots in my back untying from the heat. Apple scented shampoo, rinse, repeat, creamy conditioner, rinse, repeat. Zesty orange shower gel and apricot facial cleanser, and one last minute of savouring the hot stream of water, before I switch it off.  
I grab my hair towel in one hand, gathering up my actual hair in the other, bowing my head to let it fall over my face. I squeeze the drops of water from the ends, two or three times over because I swear the long, blonde strands absorb enough moisture to fill a million damn swimming pools. Wrapping my hair up, I wind my towel around me and slink into my room. Gabriel hops up immediately and the door is clicking shut before I've had a chance to say 'Showers free.'  
He's usually a patient guy, but, like me, he loves taking showers, the feeling of washing away the day's trouble and emerging feeling fresh, and clean. Throwing on some ratty old pyjamas and a thick cotton hoody, I sit, cross legged on my bed, hair dryer in one hand. Brushing through the damp hair is a tough job, it's too thick and knots the size of cats have now formed, as usual. I despise having my hair this long, but mom was always stroking it gently, commenting on it's beauty and how it's the same colour and length as here, and so I've never had the courage to cut it. I didn't want to upset her. The hair dryer makes even more of a mess of it, but I can't bring myself to care. Gabriel is finished showering, has his pj's on and chin length sandy brown hair dried before mines even halfway there. He laughs when I fling the brush at the wall out of pure frustration, kicking the dryer off the bed and yanking the plug out so sharply I'm a little surprised it didn't snap and electrocute me. 'Fuck it. Fuck it,' I grind out, closing my eyes and pressing my fingers to my temples. 'I'm going to bed with wet hair. I don't give a shit. It's too much hassle.'  
Gabe snickers and then coughs as he accidentally swallows the gum he's been chewing rather obnoxiously for the past twenty minutes. 'What we learn?' I ask smugly as he hacks up the wad of white, sticky gum. 'Shut up, I could have died,' he says melodramatically as he tosses the gum out our window. 'But you didn't,' I point out, smirking in amusement.  
He flips me the bird and I fall back onto the bed, head nestled on my pillow. I tuck my hand beneath my head, sighing at the now-damp pillowcase.  
'I can't believe this could be our last night in our bedroom.' I whisper without thinking, stomach clenching as I wait for Gabriel to reply.  
For a while there's nothing, just our steady breathing, and the birds hooting in the trees outside, and I wonder if he even heard me.  
Them, he says something in a low voice.  
'I know. Me either.' I sit up, leaning on my elbows, staring at him in the moonlight, steaming in from the window. Our gazes meet briefly, and there it is. The look on his face, reflecting my own. Eyes open and honest, lips parted slightly, jaw relaxed. The look of understanding, understandin an unspoken agreement between the two of us. It's a look that says, _I know that it's possible we might not end up in the same place tomorrow. But that's okay. I just want you to be happy._

Neither of us ask the other what our test results said. But something stirs inside of me, as I listen to Gabriel's gentle snores. It tells me what I've always secretly suspected. We were too different to ever live in the same faction, should we choose to enter one. The thought scares me. To live without my twin, is to live without half of me, without half a heart, half a mind. But perhaps now it's time I learned to be whole, all by myself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * this is gonna be a slow build, as I don't want to rush things. Comments/kudos give me the motivation to keep going :)


	5. If I Go There Will Be Trouble

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Marcus Eaton smiles brightly down from the podium, casting his gaze across the atrium filled with nervous teenagers. 'And remember, faction before blood.' I feel sick as I watch him flip his greasy, grey hair out of his eyes, stepping back, and proceeding to call out the list of names, in alphabetical order.' ___

Mother braids my hair with deft fingers, the blonde locks sliding neatly over and under with each of twist of her hand. I stare in the mirror, watching her face, soft and open. An absent smile graces her thin lips, olive colored skin standing out against the white, ruffled dress she has decided on. Her hair is the same color as Gabriel, dirty blonde, shoulder length and wavy. It hangs loose over her shoulders, a golden necklace hanging around her slim neck. My mother is a beautiful woman. There is a tiredness, however, in her amber eyes, that betrays her real age. Where her skin is smooth and wrinkle free, her eyes tell stories that no one will ever understand. Part of me hates Michael even more for what he has done to mum. He stole away her carefree laughter, her easy smile, and did so without a second thought. Just the thought of him makes my blood boil, and I clench my fists, curling them under my knees, so she will not notice. It's strange, I think. How me and Gabriel are twins, but we look so different. Gabe is Mom's double, olive skin, amber eyes, dark, wavy hair. He inherited her short stature and tiny feet. Then there's me, a total ringer for our father. We are taller, with light hair and paler skin, green eyed, the completely opposite of each other. It's kind of cool, in a way. Gabe looks like Mum, I look like Dad. Michael was a mixture, with Dad's height and hair, Mom's skin tone and eyes. But he's gone now. I will not allow his mistakes to screw up what is the biggest day of my life so far. 

Mom places a hand on my shoulder, squeezing gently to pull me out of my thoughts. 'Good?' She asks, placing the braid over my right shoulder. It is neat but not too tight, reaching my waist, not a hair out of place. I nod, meeting her eyes in the mirror and forcing a smile onto my face. I can't bear her being this sweet, doing my hair, picking out my clothes.. She even mentioned sorting me out a job for over the summer. We finished school last Friday, today is Tuesday, and initiation for each faction takes place over the summer months. For those who opt into the inter-faction program, they have a choice of whether they want to attend university in Erudite, or take an apprenticeship in another faction. Mom really is expecting me to stay with her, I realize, and guilt bites harshly into my heart. She says the same to Gabriel, and he nods and smiles like I do, shooting me a furtive look when her back is turned.  
I'm dressing slowly, dragging out my actions, when a thought hits me so hard, and so fast, it feels as though I've been winded.  
I've hated my older brother for so long, for leaving us when we needed him the most. And now I plan on transferring away, from my brother, from mum and dad. Doesn't that make me just as bad as him? 

No. No, I decide firmly. I don't hate him for leaving. I hate him for fucking _disappearing into the freaking ether _after he transferred. Before Visiting Day, Dad applied weeks in advance to get off work so that we could all go down and see him, how he was getting on, if he missed us, like we missed him. He didn't show. He had the nerve to have a friend of his tell us that he no longer wanted to associate with his family. Because of that stupid motto, faction before blood. Like suddenly, wearing non-prescription glasses and learning that the mitochondria is the power house of the cell was more important than the two people who raised him, who gave their blood, sweat and tears in order to provide him with a good education, a good life. Michael just threw everything back in their faces.  
It wasn't long after the barn incident, either. He knew, that selfish bastard, he knew how badly Gabriel was struggling with Joey's absence. He knew, he knew that his little brother needed him, that I needed him, and he still abandoned us. I won't do that.. Not to my family. I'd be ashamed of myself if I were to do what he has done. I will visit them as often as I can, call them, I won't just cut them off, shut them out, without any warning, without any reason. I won't. __

__Maybe that's it, actually. Maybe that is the reason I hate my brother so much - because he didn't have the balls to tell us to our faces that he didn't want to see us anymore. The one thing that feels worse than being left behind, is knowing that you weren't even worth an explanation._ _

__~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
Gabriel reaches out and places his hand on mine, stilling their shaky fidgeting. He wears a long sleeved, light grey tee shirt, baggy denim jeans and a pair of highly polished leather shoes, a seventeenth birthday present. My outfit is similar, my jeans a darker blue, much tighter, a black vest top layered with a green-and-white checkered shirt, and my black school shoes. His eyes are dancing around the room, moving from one place to another, never settling on place for too long. We aren't allowed sit beside our parents, and saying goodbye to them was difficult, especially as we couldn't say outright that it _was _a goodbye. Mom simply placed a kiss on each of our cheeks, told us she'd meet up with us after, and tottered off in her silver heels to get a good seat in the upper circle, where the parents were allocated seats for the Ceremony. Dad gave us both a look that told us, 'I know. I know, and I understand,' but simply said 'Good luck. I love you.' Before following her path, leaving us at the mouth of the Hub, where the Ceremony took place every year. It's also where the council meetings were held. Dad was a prominent member of the government, our representative, a kind but firm leader in partial power. All factions shared leadership, one person elected every ten years to hold representation. There was Johanna Reyes, for Amity - the peaceful. Jack Kang, for Candor - the honest. Max Milligan, for Dauntless - the brave. Jeanine Mathews for Erudite - the intelligent. My father, Alvin Young, for the inter-faction community, and Marcus Eaton for Abnegation .. the 'selfless'. I say that with quotations around the word, because Marcus is far from what an Abnegation member should be, let alone a leader. He is a vile man, one I hold in great distaste. There are things that are hidden away in the closets of his home, secrets that haunt every shadow and corner of the small, lonely home he inhabited alone. His wife, Evelyn, passed on when I was just a child. I don't remember much about her, except that she spent a lot of time with my mother. I can barely even remember what she looked like; only that she was gorgeous, young, with dark hair and tanned skin, kind eyes, a smile that lit up a room - that's how mom described it, at least, once, not long after the funeral. She was drunk, the one and only time she's ever become intoxicated around me. It's sad, really. They had a son, Evelyn and Marcus. He was two years younger than Michael, two years older than myself and Gabriel. He transferred out of Abnegation, but to where, I don't know. Again, I don't remember much about him, not even his name. Before Evelyn passed, we spent a lot of time in Marcus' house. The memories are faded and fleeting, and I don't generally think about it, but today we will watch him take to the stage and talk about making the choice that will define the rest of our lives, and I can't help but turn away in disgust. I know things, things other people have only heard about from whispers on the street, behind cupped palms, handling the words with care on their tongues. The rumors were deigned untrue by the respected Mr. Eaton, and the scandal was mostly forgotten about after the initial shock. The beauty of the human race, sucking the juice out of the most delicious gossip, only to move on to the next piece immediately. It's not important now. I know I will not choose Abnegation, because I cannot imagine living they way they do; plain food, plain clothes, constantly being patient and selfless and taking the burden of others troubles. I have enough of my own, and maybe I'm selfish, but I never claimed to be a good person.___ _

_____The names are called out, one by one, someone chooses their factions, usually sticking with their home turf. It is a boy named Mark Banner, a curly haired Erudite who is the first to drop his blood across the Dauntless coals rather than the Erudite water. A ripple of shocked murmurs run through the sea of blue. The first transfer. It seems to take forever, like we are suspended in this one moment, poised on the edge of jumping head first into a brand new life, frozen in place. When Jay is called, he strides confidently up the steps, takes the knife from Marcus' hand, makes the incision into his right palm. He doesn't waver at all, as he chooses Dauntless. The group of people clad in back cheer and whoop in in welcome. The red shirt - yellow pants combo looks comically out of place among his new family, but he is grinning manically across the room at me. I shake my head, stunned. He's always been hot headed, but Amity have the smallest percentage of transfer every year, and I can't remember the last time someone chose Dauntless. Again, we are the last to be called, near enough. My knee's shake uncontrollably as the panic and uncertainty consumes my entire body. Yes, the test determined I was meant to choose the brave- but that was a simulation. This is real life, I will face worse than rabid dogs and creepy men from what I've heard of their initiation process.  
'Alexis Young.' My movements are almost robotic, stiff and steady, as I hide the conflict raging inside my head. Home, or away? Family, or faction?  
Courage.. or fear? _ _ _

______I do not search the upper circle for my parent's faces, knowing that it will be the thing to break me, should I see my mom watching expectantly, waiting for me to drop my blood into the large metal bowl in the middle of the other five. They are silver, rounded, big enough that a child could fit inside with ease. In each, there is something to represent each faction. To my right, are burning coals, symbolizing Dauntless. Next to that, is heaped, fresh soil for Amity. To my left, smooth, grey pebbles are piled into Abnegation bowl, followed by shards of blue glass for Candor. Erudite is represented by a bowl of clear water, which is now a light pink from those who have chosen to live a life of truth. Lastly, inter-faction is represented by a mix of every material, water, pebbles, soil, class, in lieu of fire the dauntless symbol, flames encased in a perfect circle, is branded into the side, facing the audience, and then the glass. Marcus attempts to look me in the eye has he holds out the knife, but I keep my gaze focused on the six bowls before me. Six choices. I must pick one. My hand becomes steadier as it holds the heavy knife, when I press the tip into my palm and drag down quickly, the sting brings a gasp to my lips. I swallow it down, watching blood beading up and pooling slowly in the middle of my hand. With a sharp exhale, my arm reaches out, and jerks to the right. There's a low hiss as the crimson liquid hits the orange flames, and Marcus sounds almost disappointed as he calls out my decision. 'DAUNTLESS!'  
The first face I see as I hurry towards the noisy, moving crowd of darkness is Jay, arms outstretched. I tumble into his embrace, his warm, almond colored arms winding tightly around my waist. I bury my face into the crook of his neck, inhaling his familiar scent; wood smoke, sunlight, freshly mowed grass. 'Hey,' he whispers cheerfully, warm breath tickling the shell of my ear. I giggle, excitement growing in the pit of my belly. 'Hi..' I pull away and study his beautiful face for a moment, the uncertainty fading away quickly as anticipation takes its place.  
Marcus' voice rings out again. 'AMITY!' When I turn, Gabriel is headed for the people of peace, head turned to me, smiling proudly and nodding. I return his smile, sending him a thumbs up. He is soon swallowed up by hugs and affection, and suddenly, all my worries about not being near him anymore disappear. Gabriel is an affectionate person, who needs to know for certain he is cared for. He is not desperate, or clingy, but simply in tune with his emotions. I am proud that he has chosen what is right for him, and relieved that I have chosen what I'm sure is right for me.  
When the ceremony finally ends, Erudite's leader, Jeanine, gives her usual speech about the importance of the faction system, working together, blah, blah, blah. I tune out halfway through, and so am startled to discover that the Dauntless have disappeared through the doors marked 'Stairway', when Jay tugs on my arm. Our hands intertwine tightly, as we follow the loud cheers, the thud of feet against metal. I don't chance looking back; not ready to see the look on my parent's faces. As we break out the doors of the Hub, into the shining sun, and begin to sprint along the flat, straight road toward the train station, I find it easier to think of this as a fresh start, breathing in the clean, cool air as my muscles begin to burn inside. It's the good type of burn, the kind that reminds you that you are alive. _ _

____My choice has been made. My best friend is by my side, and my brother is safe. I cannot care about anything else, because in this moment, I am free, and strong, and _brave _. For now, it is enough.___ _ _ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is terrible. I'm so sorry. The next chapter is the first look at Dauntless - we'll meet Eric! And I was trying to be mysterious about the Marcus/Tobias thing, because I plan on deviating slightly from the events of the book in that respect. Again, unbeta'd, sorry for mistakes, your comments are making me smile on the daily, and more apologies for the quality of this. I wanted to keep going with the chapter a day thing, and I was dreading writing this part. So it's basically just filler - and I hope you're interested in the whole Big Brother Michael Is An Asshole thing so far. Just remember, there are two sides to every story..


	6. Fall Before You Fly

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _his eyes are softer as he watches me coming closer to the edge. 'it's good to see you here,' he murmurs low and quick, and for a moment i think i'm hearing things. a ghost of the smile he gave me the morning we met surfaces for a fraction of a second._

The train comes thundering down the tracks, and the Dauntless born begin running again, along the sides, hurling themselves into the open carriages. I have watched them doing this for my entire life, and it's only now that I realize that I have never paid attention to how they manage to do so without injury. Jay leaps on first, hand wrapped around the bar outside the door. He reaches for me, and I hurl myself towards him. One hand on the bar, below his, another wrapped around his waist, we manouevre inside with relative ease. 'That is the craziest thing I have ever done in my life.' I say breathlessly, slumping to the ground against the far wall. A tall, redhead in all black smirks. 'Trust me, it gets crazier.' Instead of striking fear into my core, excitement bubbles up even faster as I exchange a grin with Jay.  
Adrenaline buzzes through my vines heatedly, making me feel as though I am physically vibrating. A girl in Candor black and white drops down beside me and smiles. 'I'm Charlie,' she introduces, holding out a small, dark hand. Her skin is deep brown, eyes like molten chocolate flecked through with gold. 'Nice to meet you,' I take her hand, it is soft, and cool to the touch. 'I run cold,' she explains, shrugging. 'I'm not sure why. All my other family members have normal skin temperature, and then there's me.' She has shaved her hair off, and damn, is it beautiful. It seriously suits her, especially with the shape of her face, eyebrows arched high over those gorgeous eyes, with thick lashes, full lips curving easily at the corners. Her legs are short, even as she curls them beneath her. Standing up, I'd wager she measures around five'two. 'I wonder what initiation will be like..' she muses aloud, and I open my mouth suggest something, but a smug voice gets in there first.  
'I heard you have to fight your way through a maze of skilled fighters with nothing but your bare hands,' Glancing up, I roll my eyes as I see Peter Hayes smirking down at us. Charlie makes a disgusted noise and flips him off with both hands. 'Shut up, Peter.' She grumbles, in annoyance. 'Or what?' He mocks, pretending to tremble in fear. 'You gonna punch me?'  
'I'll knock you out of this carriage before we even get to Dauntless,' she growls, sitting up straight. Peter snickers. 'You couldn't beat an egg. And you,' he directs his words to me. 'You won't last five minutes without your precious twin. I thought you two were, like, joined at the hip? I'll give you until morning, before you go running after him to make sure he's okay.' Two other Candor's, that weren't in our class group at school, guffaw loudly behind Peter, his eyes glinting maliciously. Pushing myself upwards, I lean in close to the guy who's been a constant source of irritation since first class, and glare into his brown eyes. He licks his lips subconsciously, and I bite back a smirk. He thinks I'm attracted to him. Perfect, I can use this to my advantage. 'Look, can't we just forget about the past? Leave it all behind, after all, we're adults now. Mature, grown up..' I ghost my arm along his forearm, secretly admiring the small build of muscle beneath the warm skin. He tilts his head closer, and okay, yeah. He is absolutely gorgeous, with plump lips and dark hair falling perfectly across his forehead. 'I think we could come to some sort of.. agreement,' he whispers, words one hand grazing my cloth covered hip. I simper, cringing inwardly, but push on with my act. 'I mean, we were all silly little kids back then. we all have our embarrassments.. isn't that right, Pissy?' His face drops immediately and he backs away, slightly. 'You think you can use that against me, Blondie?' He hisses, jaw tensing in anger. 'I know I can. You hate anyone being able to embarrass you. Keep your pretty little mouth shut, and I'll keep that our little secret.' I smile sweetly, watching the fury contorting his features. 'This isn't over,' he warns me in a low voice. I snort, and pat him on the shoulder.  
He slides away, down to the far end of the carriage, huddling up with his friends like penguins, every so often a murderous glare is thrown our way. 'What was that about?' Charlie questions, and I shake my head. 'It's nothing. Don't worry about it.' She frowns at me, her Candor intuition clearly telling her that I'm hiding something. Thankfully, a tall Erudite boy lets out a yell. 'They're jumping!' Scrambling to my feet, Charlie, Jay and I lean out the door, the wind slapping our faces. True enough, the Dauntless borns are jumping from the train onto a rooftop, the rooftop of the compound. 'Are you being serious right now?!' Charlie roars over the noise. Jay takes my hand. 'Together?'  
I take Charlie's hand, and ask her the same. She nods, relief written across her features.  
'I'm not jumping..' comes a small, weak voice in the background. Turning back, I see a petite blonde, cowering in the corner, fat tears sliding down her cheeks. Peter laughs. 'Well then, princess. Looks like you're out already.' He's gone in a blur, landing on his butt and skidding halfway across the gravelly rooftop. I shake my hands free of my friend's and tell them to go. I approach the Erudite, and take her arm. 'Come on. I'll jump with you.' She looks at me with wide, blue eyes. Her lower lip trembles, causing every word she speaks to shake. 'Wh- what if we fall?' I smile reassuringly, tugging her closer to the door. Our small frame of time to jump is going to pass soon. 'Hey, I promise you that I'm not gonna let that happen.' She glances out and shrieks, covering her face with her free hand. 'On three?' She nods, not moving her hand. 'Okay. One.. two.. three!'  
The air whips around my body, flying up my clothes, feeling light as a feather, floating towards the ground. We tumble forwards, rolling across the ground. I feel my shirt tearing open before I hear the seams splitting, but hey. Who cares? I just jumped off a moving train!  
Sitting up, I brush the dust off my clothes and glance over to the girl. 'That wasn't so bad, was it?' She turns to me, face frozen in shock.  
'Just.. just shut the fuck up,' she says, in a winded voice. I throw my head back and laugh, and it's not long before she joins in. Jay helps us up, and slaps me on the back proudly. 'Oh, Princess!' Peter cheers. 'You made it!' The girl, who tells me her name is Jessica, glares fiercely back at him. He smirks and nudges his greasy haired friend in the side with a wink. 'I like them fiesty.' Jess scoffs, and we crowd together, taking notice of two men standing on the raised lip of the building. One is the man from yesterday morning, looking exactly the same and somehow also completely different. His stance is rigid, face flat and cold, eyes hardened into ice. He scans the crowd of initiates, brow furrowed deeply. He catches sight of me, and for a moment his features betrays surprised, eyes softening just a fraction. His lips curl into a devilish smirk, eyes never breaking away from mine. I grin back, the corners of my mouth turning up slightly in the barest hint of a smile. Then, he ices over again completely, glaring at those who are chattering slowly among themselves. The whispers fade out as he begins to speak, voice louder and more authoritative than I remember. 'Initiates. My name is Eric, I am one of the five leaders of the Dauntless. I will be overseeing your training over the next twelve weeks, determining your rank in order of skill, progress, determination. You will be trained separately, Dauntless borns in one group, transfers in another, but you will be ranked together.'  
 _Eric,_ I think, awed. _So that's his name.._  
He glances down over the side of the building, excitement growing in those steely eyes. 'You chose Dauntless because you feel you belong with the brave. I must admit, I didn't expect this many of you to make it this far.' His gaze lingers on Jay's Amity clothing, and the red rims of Jessica's eyes. 'If you're still determined on becoming Dauntless, then this is the way in.' He gestures across the building, pointing downwards. We shuffle forward curiously, before backing away just as fast. There is a jagged hole cut unevenly into the rooftop below, and a look of horror crosses the faces of nearly every transfer as they realise what we have to do.  
'You want us to jump? Again?' Jess yells, disbelief coloring her tone. Eric simply tilts his head and quirks an eyebrow, clearly amused by the reactions. 'Is there water at the bottom?' is what Peter wants to know. Eric shrugs. 'I guess you'll find out, won't you?' His voice sounds harmless but there's a challenge hidden beneath the words, as though he is saying that maybe, Peter isn't brave enough.  
Maybe, none of us are.  
He asks for volunteers to go first, waiting impatiently for someone, anyone, to step forward and take the risk. When no one does, he sneers nastily. 'Someone has to go first.' He says with a piercing glare. 'This is the only way in.' Silence descends upon the rooftop, the sun blazing too hot in the cloudless sky above me. Sweat beads up at the back of my neck, rolling down my shirt uncomfortably. I'm wearing clothes that are too thick and tight, that are highly unsuitable for this type of whether. If only for the chance of finding an escape from the heat, I push through the crowd and raise my voice. 'I'll do it.'  
When Eric looks at me, there's a look in his eyes that I can't quite put a name to. He's watching me with interest, scanning my body, making me self conscious. He steps down as I step up, staring down at the ominous black hole waiting for me. Taking a deep breath, I glance over my shoulder and make a face at Jess and Jay. Without giving myself time to hesitate, I lean forward, and tumble into the air. My stomach flattens itself against my spine, the harsh wind stinging my eyes, moisture forming at the edges of my eyelashes.  
My body hits something both solid and soft, moulding around my body, hugging its shape. A net, I think, a wave of giddy relief pouring over me. It's a freaking net. I allow my excited laughter to burst from my chest, before a strong hand grips my ankle and tugs harshly. I roll over, towards the hand - slim and tanned, attached to a strong wrist - and it pulls me by the forearms down onto solid ground. The hand which is attached to a strong wrist is also attached to a young man with warm brown eyes and an intense smile that causes an eruption of butterflies to beat their wings in my belly. 'What's your name?' He asks in a deep voice, sounding much older than he looks. 'Al-' I stop myself.  
Here, I could be anything, anyone, I could choose a totally different identity and build it up as I go along. The man tilts his head slightly at me. 'You can pick a new one if you like. But you only get one chance to choose, so do it wisely.  
'Lex.' I decide, keeping it similar to my real name, to hold on to a part of my past, but also open myself up for a new beginning. He nods, a brief smile flashing across his face. He takes my wrist and holds it up, turning to a crowd of official Dauntless members. 'First jumper - LEX!'  
The solid wall of black in front of me begins to cheer loudly, the atmosphere is welcoming and warm, and as I seamlessly melt into the fray, enjoying backslaps and handshakes from people with crazy hair and numerous piercings, and more ink than skin on show, I can't help but feel as though I've finally come home.  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
To my complete surprise, Jess jumps seconds, screams following her the entire way down. Her shaky knees almost give in when Four - the man who helped me out of the net - got her down beside me, but she stiffened her back and kept her head held high. She shortened her name to, from Jessica to Jess. I squeeze her shoulder, telling her that I'm so proud that she jumped! Jay is third, landing heavily and rolling off like he's done this a million times before. He introduces himself to Four with a lazy wave of his hand before sauntering towards us, swinging his arm across my shoulder. 'Hey, babe,' an easy smile stretches across his features. 'I can't believe we're really here,' he whispers to me, blue eyes dancing wildly with excitement. I nod eagerly in agreement. 'Me, either,.' The transfers arrive after us, like a steady stream of water, obviously having decided there was nothing to be afraid of. The Dauntless borns follow, and then Eric follows, nodding tersely at Four as they gather us around. A girl with dark brown hair, tipped with neon pink and tied into a high pony tail slinks over, snapping gum against her teeth as she takes in the fresh meat. 'Dauntless borns, with me. I assume you don't need a tour of the place,' she smirks, leading them off down a darkened corridor. Four and Eric motion for us to follow them, walking at a brisk pace in the opposite direction. The compound, I realise, is almost completely underground. I shiver as the cool temperature raises goosebumps along my arms. It is a refreshing change from the heavy heat above, I think gratefully. The walls are bare, grey stone, and as we approach an opening in the long hallway, a low chatter rises to a deafening roar of music, mixed with the buzz of a tattoo needle and ongoing conversations between members of Dauntless. 'This is the Pit,' Four calls over his shoulder without looking back. 'What type of place is named the Pit?' Peter screws his nose up in distaste, and this time Four does turn back, smiling mysteriously. 'You'll see.'  
My eyes widen as we enter the Pit, a large, circular, cavernous room, lit by the streams of sunlight coming in from the open roof. A waterfall is gushing down the sides of a steep drop, crossed by thin, railless walkways leading from one side of the Pit to another. 'This is the centre of life here in Dauntless.' Four informs us, and Eric chips in at this point. 'The Chasm reminds us that there is a fine line between bravery, and idiocy.' He points towards the rushing water, the cement walkways, the railless heights facing the Chasm. 'A daredevil jump off of there will end your life. It has happened before, and it will happen again. You have been warned.' Four's voice is depressingly solemn, as he keeps walking, quickening his pace once again. We enter a large dorm type room, filled with rickety cotbeds, metal toilets fixed into the wall at the far end, no cubicles, just sitting there unashamed, out in the open. A murmur of disgust passes through our group as we take in these bleak looking living quarters. 'This is home, for the next twelve weeks.' 'Is this for boys, or girls?' asks a short, Abnegation girl with long, ash blonde hair and wide, deer-in-the-headlights grey eyes. Four casts her a scornful look. 'Both.'  
'There are backpacks with black clothing beneath each bed.' Eric cuts in, sounding bored out of his mind. 'You have ten minutes to get changed, and we'll come back to take you to the pit where you will burn the clothes you wore here.' I head for a bed near the wall, one on each side for Jay and Jess. Jess smiles gratefully as she sinks down onto the thin mattress, frowning in concern as it creaks almost painfully. We find the rucksacks, emptying out the new items of clothing, finding loose skinny jeans, black socks, underwear, boxer shorts and bra's - Peter put a bra around his bare chest and runs around yelling about his sensitive nipples, breaking the tension in the room into ripples of amused laughter. There's a big, short sleeved tee shirt, stiff under the arms to prove that it was new. There was a hooded zip up jacket and a thinner hoodie. Glancing around the room, seeing the rest of my new room mates in various states of undress, I sigh, deciding that I might as well get used to the communal nakedness we'd have to deal with on a daily basis. I cast off my shirt and top, leaving on my purple underclothes. Peter wolf whistles, as does his friend, who's name I find out is Drew, but I roll my eyes and wiggle into the overly large tee shirt, that hangs to my mid thigh. I peel off the grey jeans, almost stuck to my skin from sweat. I wrinkle my nose, grossed out. The looser black pants are a relief to wear, more comfortable, with that satisfying feeling of new material rubbing against my skin. A pair of shoes sit in a cardboard box, again beneath the bed. I toe my feet into them, they are canvas runners, even the soles at the bottom are black. There is a pair of more durable lace up boots, too, and I fold my new clothes, deciding to keep the boxers for sleeping in, and place them neatly in my box.  
Jay is dressed when I stand and kick the box back under my bed, gathering my old clothing into my arms. I grin across at him and he crosses his eyes, sticking out his tongue.  
Jess is still standing nervously, chewing her thumbnail fiercely. Peter and that lot are still milling around like idiots, and I can tell she is extremely uncomfortable. I beckon Jay around to us, holding up the large jacket to conceal Jess' naked form from prying eyes. She dresses quickly, smiling at us gratefully. 'Thank you,' she murmurs, squeezing both our hands.  
Eric strolls in and lets out a roar that startles us all.  
I find myself enjoying the act of burning my old clothes. They were nice, and all, but there's something cathartic about watching fragments of your past going up in flames. I stand for a moment in front of the fire, letting the heat bathe my face in the orange glow, smiling determinedly. Maybe now I can finally move on from the past, maybe now I can start going forward instead of constantly looking backwards.  
I have found a place that feels like home. I'll be damned if I allow it to slip through my fingers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like this started good and kinda got worse?:/ I don't like my characterization of Eric in this, I hope I've managed to show that he's complex, i.e. cold towards in initiates, sounding bored, intrigued by Lex, etc.  
> We'll have their second interaction in the next chapter, so if you're enjoying this so far, kudos/comments inspire me to keep going!!  
> Unbeta'd, apologies for mistakes, I do not own Divergent etc, etc.


	7. Training

Four decides to wake us up by banging a copper pipe against the railing of the stairs that lead down into the dorm. Everyone grumbles and shoots him murderous glares, but he is stone faced as he yells for us all to be up and dressed and in the mess hall by seven. Checking the digital clock on the wall, I groan as I push back the thin duvet and stretch out.   
It is now six. Jess sits on the edge of her bed, smiling tiredly at me. Jay is dressed already, humming quietly to himself. Amity's are used to early mornings. I am not.   
Shivering in the cool air, I pull on black leggings and a sports bra, sliding a black vest top over my head and layering a tee shirt on top of that. Pulling on the zip up hoodie we were issued yesterday, I swear loudly as my loose hair gets caught on the zip. 

'Ohh, that's some naughty language, Blondie,' Peter laughs in my ear. I turn and make a face at him. 'Get away,' I step past him, moving towards the mirrors hanging in the adjoined bathroom. My heart sinks as I realize I don't have a hairbrush, and so I must comb through the knotted strands with my hand. Braiding it as best as I can, I pin it up in a bun at the back of my head. It makes the purple circles beneath my eyes more noticeable, but at least it's out of my face. Jess leaves hers hanging over her shoulder, it is much shorter, reaching just below her shoulders. Finding the mess hall proves easy, and it is loud and cluttered with Dauntless preparing for the day.   
Four nods at us from a table at the far end of the room, pleased that we have not been lazy on the first morning. Eric is sitting next to him, hand curved around a mug of steaming liquid. Coffee, probably. My mouth waters at the thought of the caffeinated beverage, and I nudge Jay forward towards the food. A machine which dispenses various drinks blinks merrily at me, and I push the button for an espresso, double. Mixing in some sugar I leave milk out, and Jess scrunches her face up in distaste when we find an empty spot and sit down. 'How the hell do you drink that?' She asks, sipping daintily on her milky tea. I shudder from the bitterness passing my lips, savoring the hot brown liquid. 'It's lovely.' Jay nods his agreement, downing his own in one gulp before choking and clutching his throat. I snort with laughter, at the expression on his face. Blue eyes bulge out ridiculously, cheeks burning red as he wafts a hand in front of his open mouth. 'Too- hot.' he gasps out, shaking his head and exhaling sharply.   
Jess giggles, biting into her buttered toast. The apple I have chosen is crunchy and sour, and I glance around the mess hall as I chew. 

Steel gray eyes burn into me from far away, and I stop eating as I meet Eric's gaze. He's watching me. Disconcerted, I raise an eyebrow, a silent question, to which I get no reply. He simply smirks, the piercings in his face tugging as the skin stretches and I wonder vaguely if it hurts. 

'Hello? Earth to Alex?' A tanned hand diverts my attention, bringing it back to my friends who are also staring, amusement growing in their eyes. 'Bit zoned out there?' Jay teases and I swat his arm, scowling down at my own hands folded on the metal tabletop. 'It's Lex now.' I snap. 'What do you think we'll have to do this morning?' Jess asks nervously, fidgeting with the hem of her tee shirt. Jay shrugs, spooning some cereal into his mouth. The dark skinned Candor appears from nowhere and drops herself into the seat beside Jess and across from me. 'Hey, Lex.' She grins, and looking at her smile brings one to life on my own lips. Her enthusiasm is infectious, and I feel my heart lifting in anticipation for the rest of the day. 'Guys, this is Charlie. Charlie, this is Jay, and Jess.' I nod to both and Jay reaches out a hand immediately.   
'Hello, Miss Charlie,' he presses a kiss to her knuckles and winks, as Charlie giggles and bats her eyelashes over-zealously. 'Nice to meet you,' Jess whispers dryly, staring at the girl with some sort of..awe? I narrow my eyes as I glance between the two of them. Charlie appears oblivious to Jess' sudden stiff posture, but when Jess looks over she notices me watching her, and her cheeks bloom with color. I smirk to myself, thinking _someone's got a crush.._

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
At 7AM sharp, Four herds us together in the Pit, standing tall and almost bleeding authority. 'This is the only time I will show you where the training room is, so pay attention.' There's a coldness to his voice, and he turns sharply before striding off across one of the walkways over the Chasm. 'Someone got up on the wrong side of the bed this morning..' Charlie mutters and Jess laughs, a little too loud. Four stops without warning and turns back, making his way towards us. Jess freezes in fear as he strides right up to her, leaning in close with a menacing glint in his eyes. 'Something funny, initiate?' He asks innocently, but the hard lines on his face betray his anger. She shakes her head, unable to speak.   
'What, cat got your tongue all of a sudden?' Four mocks her nastily, while Peter snickers in the background. Anger knots my stomach up and I step forward, pushing Jess behind me protectively. 'Hey, what's your problem? She hasn't done anything wrong.' Four stands a little straighter and crosses his arms. 'Who do you think you're talking to?' He wants to know and I resist the urge to roll my eyes. 'Someone who should try picking on someone their own size.' I snap without thinking, a sharp edge to the words that have me cringing inwardly the moment they've hit the air. I am so, so screwed. Four raises an eyebrow, looking amused.   
'What's taking so long?' 

An involuntary shiver runs up my spine as Eric appears from a corridor on the other side, approaching us and staring at Four expectantly. 'Blondie here is getting a little mouthy,' Four smirks, knowing that he has landed me in it. Eric simply grinds his teeth and keeps his eyes glued to Four. 'It's the first day of training and you're already getting involved in a bitch fight, Four?' He asks tauntingly, and Four snaps around to look up at the taller man. 'You're supposed to be above silly initiate drama,' He says, sounding bored. I bristle a little, this isn't just 'silly drama'. He looked as though he were moments away from knocking Jess off the edge of the Chasm! 

Four begins to walk away again, not before shooting me a suspicious look. I smile smugly back at him, but it clears from my face the moment I meet Eric's solemn expression. The four of us move forward and he follows behind us. It takes a lot of willpower not to glance back over my shoulder to look at him. 

The Dauntless training room looks exactly like anyone would expect. Large punching bags hanging in rows along the back, human shaped targets fixed to a wall along the side, a table with guns and knives lined up perfectly in the middle. There are large black mats in the remaining areas. I try not to think about what the mats might be for. 

'Today you're going to be learning how to shoot a gun.' Four speaks loudly, voice controlled once again. He moves his gaze across each initiate, purposefully skipping me.   
'It is one of the most basic skills a Dauntless needs to know. You must know how to handle one safely, and understand when to shoot and when not to shoot.' 

He picks up a gun himself, instructing us to watch his actions closely. I study his body carefully, the way he spreads his legs hip width apart, holding the gun with his arm straight but not tensed. He fires quickly, the pop of the bullets spinning out of the chamber hurting my eardrums. He hits the bullseye on the target, dead on.

'Grab a gun,' he calls out. 'Pick a target, line up and start shooting.' We all exchange a stunned glance, is that the only demonstration we're going to get?  
Four taps his foot impatiently. 'Today would be great.' His voice is frustrated and I notice he has finally looked at me, annoyance filling his brown eyes. 

Great. I got the instructor to hate me on my first day. Great job, Lex. Fab work. 

Picking up the gun, admiring the weight and the smooth, shining metal I stand in between Jess and Jay. Their bullets ricochet off the walls behind the target. Wincing every time they miss, I watch to see if I can make out where they're going wrong. I don't really see any difference to what Four done, and what they're doing, so I turn to my own target and click the safety. In a split second, the gun goes from harmless metal to lethal weapon. Knowing that I am holding something so dangerous sends a thrill through me, and I aim as straight as I can. Curling my finger around the trigger, I stumble back as the recoil hits, not ready. Someone snorts behind me, and turning my head I see Eric standing there, laughing. 'Not strong enough to fire a gun?' He asks, and I grit my teeth, turning back around. A smooth hand cups mine as two strong arms wind around my torso. 'Here, let me show you..' I tense up at Four's touch, the feeling of his soft skin pressed against mine. He nudges my knees apart, pushing one foot in front of the other, showing me how to hold the gun right. 'Now.' He whispers, hot breath curling at my neck. I repress a shudder and pull the trigger again. This time, I can hold my ground easily, even without Four's steady chest flush to my back. The bullet clips the second ring, burrowing through the wood with a crack. Four steps away, and I feel cold all of a sudden. 'Well done,' he praises with a hint of pride in his voice. He leaves to help the others, and Charlie wiggles her eyebrows obscenely my way. I shake my head, feeling a stare burning the side of my face. Eric's features express about as much emotion as a brick, and if looks could kill, I'd be better off at the bottom of the Chasm right now. My mind swims with confusion. 

In the past half an hour, I've had one instructor on my back and the other dragging him off, and now the first instructor is being nice as pie and the other is shooting daggers. I hope they aren't always like this, blowing hot and cold. I don't think I could deal with that. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Shooting practice lasts an hour, and by the time we've finished only four out of thirteen initiates have hit anywhere near the red mark in the center of the targets. Me, Jay, Peter and Charlie. Jess clipped the edge a couple times, and I see the relief washing over her features when the order to put the guns away is given.   
It soon turns to horror as the first and last jumper, from the group of transfers, are called onto a mat. I step forward warily, pausing at the edge of the thick black plastic.   
My heart sinks as a tall, lanky boy makes his way towards me, limbs too long and awkward, big hazel eyes looking lost and afraid. Brown curls edge over his forehead, and I recognize him as the Erudite from the train, the Erudite that was the first of the transfers this year. Mark. 

'You're going to be fighting today, all of you, so that we can get a sense of your skill. I don't expect anything good,' Eric states, watching me again with an icy look. 'But I do expect you all to try.' He emphasizes the last word heavily, glaring at everyone. He motions for us both to enter the mat, and we do so. Mark throws me an anxious look, and I have no idea what I'm supposed to do now. 'How long do we fight for?'   
Eric stares as though the answer should be obvious. 'Until one of you can no longer continue.'   
Four's jaw tenses, I notice, he is not happy with this rule. He doesn't voice his complaint, I suspect this is a battle he has already fought and lost. 

'Go' He speaks, clinical and stoic. I bring my fists to my face, and Mark mimics me. He is taller and stronger, I can tell that already. If he decides to fight back, I won't have a chance. I dart forward and tap his bare forearm with my knuckles, he starts a little but doesn't make any other movement. 

'PATHETIC!' Eric snarls, anger radiating through every syllable. Mark meets my eyes and nods subtly. Is he giving me permission to beat him up?  
I don't want to. But if one of us isn't unconscious by the end of this match, I have a feeling Eric will snap both our necks as punishment for disobeying orders. I fake a jab to his abdomen, when his upper body his undefended as he brings both arms down to block my access, I sock his throat, hard this time. He gasps for air, and I sweep out a leg, knocking his out from beneath him. He crumples to the floor like withered leaves from a flower. I kick him hard in the back as he groans and turns around, coughing harshly. 'I'm done,' he wheezes. 'I'm done,' he holds up his hands, palms facing me, in surrender. Panic strikes me like a lightening bolt. Eric won't like this. No. Not at all. 

To my surprise, he gently brings Mark back to his feet and places a hand on the small of his back. 'You okay?' He asks softly, a faint hint of venom seeping through. Mark doesn't notice as he smiles gratefully at his predator, who begins to guide him out of the room, calling for us to follow. Jay falls into step beside me, face creased. 'What's going on?' He whispers to me. 'I don't know..'  
He pauses, chewing his bottom lip. 'I don't like this.' He says finally, and I look up at him, briefly meeting worried blue-green eyes.   
'Me either.' I confess. 

The closer we get to the Chasm, the tighter my stomach knots up. Eric asks if Mark is feeling better now. Halfway through the boy's reply, Eric shoves him off the Chasm, gripping his wrists and holding them to the railing. 'Hold on,' he says cheerfully, lifting his own hands and straightening up. 'Or don't. Your punishment for cowardice is to hang there for four minutes. You can hold on, die trying, or give up. But if you give up, you're out.' There is no emotion in Eric's voice as he speaks. He is as cold as a glacier, and no one has the courage to step forward and defy him. 

The rushing water sprays across Mark's back, pushing him forward. There's a horrible crack as he hits his forehead against the rail and he cries out in pain. 'Come on, Mark, you can do it!' Jess cheers him on, ignoring the glare that Eric sends her way. I keep my own gaze on him, searching for a fracture in his cold, hard shell. His eyes rest on mine, never wavering in their fierceness. We both break away as Mark's hand slips down slightly. Jay joins in on Jess' encouragement, elbowing me in the ribs. Clearing my throat, I chant along without thinking, staring at his hands and willing him forcefully to hang on. This is my fault. If he falls, I'll never forgive myself. 

'Two minutes left,' Jess whispers, but Eric hears and nods at her. Mark's left hand falls away completely, and tears prick behind my eyes. I blink them away, counting the seconds in my head. 

'Time.' Me and Jess speak in unison, four of us, Charlie, Jay, me and Jess move towards him to help him up.

'He has to get up himself.' Eric tells us coolly.   
I walk up to him, motioning for the others to help him. 'No, he doesn't.' I spit out, rage sending tremors through my body. 'He did what you said. He's not a coward.'   
When Mark is back on solid ground, Four beckons him over and whispers quietly to the shaking boy. Eric orders our instructor to takes us back, but curls his hand around my shoulder in an iron grip. 'Not you.' 

Charlie watches us with concern, but I nod, and reluctantly, she returns to the training room, leaving me alone with this sadistic, cruel man who could easily murder me for standing against him. I stare at the floor, trying to calm my racing heart, as I wait for him to speak.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the usual; unbeta'd, I do not own Divergent.


	8. Bruised Knuckles

'So, you do belong somewhere. What did I tell you?' I glance up in shock, registering Eric's smug grin and that his body has relaxed from its tense stance. Blinking wildly, I search for something intelligent to say. I fail, and he chuckles, a low sound rumbling from his chest.   
'What you did there was brave, but don't defy me again. I won't be as lenient next time.' He warns seriously, and I find myself nodding. 

I was seriously expecting to be hung over the Chasm by my hair, but he's actually being nice, which seems strange, as not five minutes ago he watched an initiate under his care dangling dangerously over a steep drop, no emotion in his face. His change in mood has thrown me off, like it did two days ago. 

We stand there for a few moments, apparently having some kind of staring contest. My eyes burn, and I blink first. He smirks again, and steps closer. I fight the urge to step back.   
'You look good in black.' Is all he says, before he steps around me and walks back to the training room. I stand, stunned, on the walkway, for a few seconds, trying to collect myself.   
What the hell was that?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
Later, I faced an interrogation from my friends at the dinner table. 'What did he say to you?'   
'Did he hang you over the Chasm?'   
'Threaten to kick you out?' 

I take my time chewing a mouthful of lasagna - which, by the way, is a damn close second to my moms at home.. no, this is my home now, back at my parents house, I correct myself quickly - so as to come up with an answer. What was I supposed to tell them, that we knew each other from the morning of the aptitude test, that he had been the one to calm me down when I was ready to swim away in oblivion rather than face the test? I definitely didn't want to mention the compliment, it would most likely give them the wrong idea, and honestly, I doubt Eric had meant it anyway. He was probably just trying to rattle me. 

'He just said not to defy his authority in front of you lot again.' Charlie frowns, pursing her lips. 'Really?' I nod, shrugging my shoulders. 'I guess he was feeling nice,' I mumble, staring at my plate of meat and cheese. 'Nice?' Charlie repeats incredulously. 'We're talking about a guy who almost killed an initiate for giving up in a fight, and you're saying he let you off with a warning when you talked back?' Her words are dripping with suspicion, and I glare across the table. Damn Candor's, why did I have to go and make friends with one? 'Look, I told you what happened, Charlie. Are you saying you don't believe me?' The outright accusation pulls her back, and she shakes her head, face relaxing. 'Of course not.' She smiles warmly, a peace offering. The tension dissipates, and out of the corner of my eye Jess breathes out in relief.   
'He must like you, then.' Jay teases, nudging my foot with his under the table. 'Be serious, lad.' I scoff, ignoring the way my chest tightens. 'He doesn't really seem to like anyone,' Jess comments, and we all turn to look at the young leader, again, sitting next to Four. Max, the main leader, is speaking animatedly, telling some sort of story, but Eric isn't listening. Everyone else laughs with Max, but Eric stares down at his empty plate. As though he feels our stares, his head snaps up and my friends jump, looking away immediately, embarrassed at being caught. They snicker at a comment, possibly made by Charlie, but I'm focused on Eric. For once, he does not smirk, simply scanning my body. I feel like shrinking, hiding away from his scrutiny but I don't give him the satisfaction of showing my insecurities. The moment is broken when Peter walks by and makes a smart comment about Mark, not really to us, to his ensemble, but loud and intentional, for us to hear. He keeps mouthing off, and Charlie stands, telling him fiercely to shut the hell up.   
It irritates me, she's given him a reaction, which is exactly what he wants. 'Or what?' Peter asks, sounding amused. He is standing behind me.   
Jess stands next, and when she provokes him further, I want to shake her. 'Shove off, Peter. You're just a bully and a coward. Go be annoying somewhere else,' At any other time, I may have been proud, at the way she stands tall and confident and speaks up, but I am not in the mood to deal with conflict and when Peter gets ratty, I want to hit them all.   
'Oh, Princess, are you always this sassy?' His words are steeped in sarcasm. 'Everyone says you're quiet, but I don't think you're quiet enough. What you really need is my dick shoved down that pretty throat to shut-' He doesn't finish his sentence, because my fist shoves the rest of the words back as I sink my knuckles into his jaw. Winding one arm around his neck, I drag him to the floor and lock my arms into a choke hold. He struggles weakly, thrown off by the punch to his face. 'If you ever disrespect any woman, or any man, or anyone, in that way again, I will cut off your dick and make you eat it. Okay?' I hiss into his ears as his eyes widen in disgust. I don't realize how much pressure I'm placing on his throat until he lets out a strangled sound in lieu of a reply, so I loosen my arm and he nods, gasping loudly. 'Okay, okay!'   
A hand on my elbow draws me out of the red haze surrounding me, and cool grey eyes seem to douse the fire running through my veins. 'Enough.' He murmurs quietly, but firmly. I let go of Peter, rolling my eyes in disgust as he leans on all fours and coughs pathetically. 

I notice Max watching me with interest, and my friends are also staring as though I've suddenly grown an extra head. Suddenly, I'm exhausted, and irritated, and so I leave the mess hall without looking back, entering the empty dorm and changing into my boxers and a vest top, pulling my hair down from its tight bun. Curling up beneath the thin blanket, I shut my eyes, red pulsing heatedly behind my eyelids. It fades away gradually, leaving comforting darkness. I'm still awake when I hear the buzz of chatter when the other transfers come in, to go to bed, but I keep my head beneath the cover and pretend to be asleep. No one tries to talk to me, and my friends don't talk about me, which I am grateful for. I fall asleep when the chatter dies down and all that's left to fill the air is soft snores and heavy breathing. I let the near-silence lull me into a dreamless sleep, my mind clearing blissfully as I drift away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry this is so short! i needed to add another chapter, as it was uneven :Z.


	9. Weak Spots

The first week passes in a blur, and the events of the first day become nothing but a faded memory. Nothing else out of the ordinary has happened, it has simply been a week of fighting, and shooting practice. Already, it is becoming apparent that some of us were not meant for Dauntless. I dislike the way Eric and Four stare at Jess, she has not hit the centre of her target at all yet. They talk in hushed murmurs and seem to be picking out those they deem weak, and the first set of rankings will be posted later today. 

Jess is fighting Drew today, an unfair match if there ever was one. Drew isn't very skilled, but he's much taller and much stronger; she doesn't stand a chance. Her wrists are thin and birdlike, next to his, thick and veiny. It takes all of two minutes for him to knock her out, and it's painful to see her lying unconscious, face bruising quickly. Drew keeps going even after she hits the floor, even after Four orders him to stop. 

Four has to physically drag Drew out of the ring, sinking a fist into the initiates abdomen. 'When your opponent is unconscious, you stop fighting. No exceptions.' Each word is steeped in fury, and I rush to Jess' side. 'She needs medical attention,' Charlie is almost in tears, shaking fiercely. Four nods, permitting us to take her to medical. We've been there enough over the past few days, getting treated for split lips, concussions, bruised knuckles, the like. I'm pretty sure I could walk there and back blindfolded at this point. 

To my surprise, Eric lifts Jess' limp body and orders me to accompany him. He refuses to let a pissed Charlie come with, no matter how many times I ask. We walk in silence together, up into the medical ward. The nurse, who has deep crimson curls, is obviously used to dealing with the injuries year after year. She takes Jess easily from Eric, as though she is light as a feather. Muscles bunch in the nurses arms as she brings into a private room and says she'll take care of her. 

'Thanks, Bee.' Eric grunts, and she smiles at him fondly, patting his arm. It's a strange gesture, in my opinion.   
'You can come and visit in a few hours, she should be awake by then.' Bee tells me kindly, before leaving me and Eric in the hallway alone. 

'Come on, you need to get back.' He turns sharply and walks off, so I follow. 

I'm up against Charlie, and after a long struggle I manage to pin her down, and she cannot get up. There's a break for lunch, and I intend on going to check up on Jess. However, I'm distracted as a bunch of Dauntless borns run into the mess hall screeching about rankings, and a wave of initiates move forward and we spill into the training room, equal parts terrified and excited. 

There are twenty four of us in total, thirteen transfers, eleven Dauntless borns.   
A red line cuts across the bottom, and these are the ones not doing well.   
I scan the numbered columns for my name, heart beating in my throat. 

I don't know the first few, and my eyes fall on number twelve. 

12\. _Lex_   
Charlie pushes me with her hip, and I find her name just below mine. There are six names in the red. Jess is one of them.   
So is Mark, and I watch his expression carefully as he turns away from the board. He doesn't seem upset, face void of any emotion. I wonder if he hates me, for what happened with Eric and the Chasm.

Jay leans in close and whispers in my ear, noticing me staring at the other boy. 'It's not your fault. We do what we have to do.'   
The words are not comforting. If we do what we have to do, and we don't like what we do, won't that turn us into people we never wanted to be?   
Swallowing thickly, I slip away from the gaggle of teenagers and make for medical. 

Four turns a corner and glances up at me. 'Did you see your score?' He inquires, and I nod, smiling despite myself.   
'You should be proud. But don't get cocky. There's still a lot of work to be done.' I nod again, not stopping to chat. 

Jess is awake when I arrive back at Bee's office, one eye swollen shut, bruises blossoming across her jaw, her neck. I can only imagine the state of her ribs, thinking back to the vicious kicks Drew administered. Settling in the chair beside her bed, she smiles painfully, wincing.   
'Be honest. How bad is it?' She asks, and I chew my lip.   
'I'm no Candor,' I joke, and she makes a face, hissing as the bruises twist with her skin. 'Let me put it this way, you wouldn't be a poster child for Amity.'  
She giggles lightly at that, lying still as a statue. 'That nurse, Bee, said that I was lucky my ribs didn't break. They're badly bruised, but I'll be back on my feet by morning.'   
She seems to hesitate, before looking at me with intensely focused eyes. Well, one eye. 

'I need to start training outside of sessions.' She tells me seriously. I hold my breath, thinking about her low ranking. I don't want to be the one to tell her, but she deserves to know.   
'The rankings were put up today,' I say softly. She gives me a look that tells me she knows she's done terrible. 'Second to last.' I answer her silent question, and she growls, irritated.   
'Will you help me learn to fight better?' She asks, and looking at her injured face I nod without thinking, determined to get her through stage one, no matter the cost.   
'Tomorrow, during free time. We can use the training room while its empty.' I nod again, already listing strategies in my head, thinking back on her fights, pinpointing the weak spots that need the most help.

'You know, you don't have to.' She whispers, I raise my brows in confusion. 'Help me, I mean.' She clarifies, giving a kind smile. 'I understand if you'd rather focus on yourself.' 

Leaning forward, I thread my fingers through hers and squeeze, tightly. 'Oi, I meant what I told you on the train on choosing day. I'm not gonna let you fall. I promise.' 

It's only later, when I'm staring at the ceiling in the darkened dorm, that a thought occurs to me. I won't let Jess fall, but what do I do if I slip myself? 

I resolve to work harder, too. Like Four said, I can't afford to get cocky. This is only the start, and I'm not about to stumble at the first hurdle.


	10. Demons

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _it's dark inside, it's where my demons hide_

It's one in the morning. I haven't gone to bed. I've taken to staying up late training alone, as well as helping Jess out from seven till nine. She's improving, in leaps and bounds. There's a week and a half left of training until stage one finishes, and I reckon she's got a good chance at getting a decent rank. I need to push myself up the board though. Twelve isn't good enough. It needs to be higher. Better. I need to be stronger.   
The training room is almost always lit up. I wonder if others come here at night when they need to let off steam.   
My arms burn and my legs tremble as I finally wind down for the night. Staggering back to the dorms, I pause by Marks bed, listening closely. Usually when I leave the dorms to train, he's still awake, sobbing quietly into his pillow. I've never mentioned it to him, because part of me thinks that he keeps the tears hidden during the day for a reason. I think he'd appreciate it more if I kept quiet. Sometimes, our sad moments are best left in the dark.   
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
'Today, you're going to be learning how to throw a knife.' Four looks tired this morning, eyes shadowed deeply with purple. I'm a little sleepy too, having gotten about five hours of sleep. My stomach rumbles quietly, and I press my hand to my abdomen as though that will quell the noise. I didn't eat breakfast this morning - I spent too long in the shower, zoning out beneath the hot spray of water. It was almost like being back at home, in the bathroom adjoined to mine and Gabriel's bedroom. Until Peter ran in and smacked my ass, telling me to get the fuck out before I used up the hot water. Me and him have become tense friends, for want of a better word. I don't care if he makes crude comments about me, they're kind of annoying but don't make me uncomfortable. I don't mind if he flirts or slaps my ass, but if he ever touched one of my friends without their consent.. They'd find him at the bottom of the Chasm. 

He's showing off now. He's hit the target, at the edge, first try. I roll my eyes, and line myself up to take a shot. The first knife clatters to the floor loudly, and I wince. My posture was too loose. Tightening my muscles, I readjust my stance and go again. This time the knife sticks, in the shoulder of the body shaped target on the wall. Grinning triumphantly, I keep going, my aim becoming better. After a while has passed, almost everyone has managed to get a knife to stick at least once. Almost everyone.  
Not Jess. Eric is hounding her, and I see the anxiety knotting up her limbs, giving her a disadvantage as her hand shakes and the blade slips out too soon when she throws. It skitters across the floor, landing just beside the target.   
'Go and get it,' Eric orders, practically breathing down her neck.   
She stares at him in shock. 'While they're still throwing?' Eric crosses his muscled arms over his chest, raising an eyebrow. 'Why, are you scared?' He sneers, and I pause, feeling my heart sinking down to my feet. 'Of getting hit by a flying knife? Obviously!' She snaps, anger flashing across her features. I can tell that she is sick and tired of being harassed constantly. Her name has moved up four places, which still leaves her below the line. 

Four stiffens at her outburst, and I can tell that something bad is about to go down. 'Everybody- stop throwing!'   
Eric's voice reverberates around the room, and the whiz of metal through air ceases almost immediately. He gives Jess a shove, beckoning Four to come closer.   
'Stand in front of the target. Four will throw knives at you, and if you flinch even once, you're out.' 

Oh, fucking hell. I see Jess swallowing hard, blinking back scared tears. Charlie protests angrily, but soon shuts up the moment Eric asks her would she like to take her place.   
'I will.' My voice is stronger than I feel myself. There's a warning in the glare Eric sends my way, but I stand next to Jess. 'This crap won't prove anything.' I scoff, ignoring the fear building up inside my throat. 

Four positions himself in front of me, three knives dangling from his left hand, another raised in the air.   
He tries to meet my eyes, but I keep my gaze locked firmly with Eric's. I cannot make out the emotion flitting quickly across his face. The first knife lands beside my hand. I don't move.   
The second burrows into the wood between my legs. I don't even blink.  
The third misses the top of my head, by mere inches. I hold my breath.   
The fourth stings when it kisses my upper arm, slicing neatly through the first layer of skin.   
I don't even gasp. 

Eric nods, and calls out for break.   
I stand there until the others trickle out, ignoring my friends when they motion for me to follow them. Jay pulls them away, understanding what I want to do. Eric is the only one who remains, staring at me. Four hovers in the background before he is told to fuck off.   
I walk forward slowly, taking small steps until I am nose to nose with Eric. 'You cannot break me, Eric.' I whisper confidently. 'You could hang me over that Chasm for ten hours and you still wouldn't get any kind of reaction. You need to sort yourself out, because one minute your carrying Jess to the hospital ward like she's made of china, the next you want to fire knives at her head? I don't know who I spoke to on the morning of my aptitude test, but it wasn't you. It can't have been. Because I don't recognise you at all. I don't see him when I look at your face. Stop picking on my friends.'  
'Or what?' He growls, stepping even closer, our chests pulled flush together. I laugh lightly. 'You don't want to find out.' I tell him, watching amusement flickering in his dilated pupils. 'You wouldn't be able to leave even a scratch, before I'd have your neck snapped.' The words are not threatening, but the way he caresses the side of my neck while he speaks them, is. I don't bother replying, stalking out. My neck tingles where his hand touched the skin, and I try not to think about what that might mean. 

Later that night, during one of my 1am solitary sessions, I can't shake the memories of the accident in the barn. Accident .. Everyone thought it was an accident. Even Michael, and he was the only other person there.   
He thinks he was the only one there, full stop. I was only a child, small and slight, easily hidden away behind empty boxes stacked haphazardly along the hay shaft. 

My knuckles bruise and split and bleed as I push through the pain. No one knows me. Eric thinks he does, but I could tell him stories that would make him look like a goddamn angel. He thinks he's so tough. I could have him begging for his life within seconds.

These are the thoughts I do not wish to entertain, the darkest of my demons rising to the surface. Feeding on my anger, feeding on my guilt.   
I can't let them take over. I can't let them ruin my life again. _Stronger_ , I think to myself. 'Stronger,' I whisper into the empty room, feeling like it is being repeated back to me by invisible onlookers, chanting 'stronger, stronger, stronger!'   
I cannot keep my tears from escaping, having held back all the pain and grief for far too long. I let them flow relentlessly, as my sports bra becomes sticky with sweat and chafes uncomfortably against my skin. Panting hard, I let every emotion pour from my fists, until I am laid low with exhaustion, until I have nothing left to feel.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Summary from Imagine Dragons; Demons.


	11. Bound In Blood And Bruises

'Keep your wrists tight to your face. Use your whole body to hit - no, no, not like that-!' 

Jess practically flings herself into the plastic punching bag, toppling over and landing face first on the ground.   
'You okay?' I ask, pressing my foot to her side. She groans in response.   
Rolling onto her back, she pouts up at me, looking more cute kitten than wild cat. 'Can't I just.. Lie here and you can do my fights for me?' 

I shake my head, reaching for her head. I drag her up with relative ease, a streak of pride flashing through me. I've definitely grown stronger since I arrived, and I can't keep the grin from my face as I try to give Jess a solemn glare. 'Nope. Come on, go again. This time, don't throw yourself at the bag, but use your body for extra strength.. That's it. Good!' She beams, curling a fist and continuing on, getting better.   
I hide a yawn behind my hand, but she notices anyway.   
'You tired?' she asks between punches. I shake my head.   
'No. No, but it's been a long day.' 

She nods. 'How's the head?' I wince as I press a finger to my bruised temple, silently cursing Peter. I'd just about manage to beat him earlier, after he landed a rough kick to my head. I don't know how I did it. I just kind of.. Panicked, really. All I knew is, one minute my head was exploding with pain and the next, my knuckles were weeping blood and I was half slumped across an unconscious Peter. Waking up in medical, next to him, I learned that because I was the last to pass out, I was the victor. He was not pleased.   
I broke his nose. But he almost broke my skull.

Jess is up to fight one of Peter's crew tomorrow, an absolute tank of a girl named Molly. She hasn't lost a fight, yet. Me and Jess have been training together for three days now, and Jess hasn't won a fight. She almost did, against Mark, but she was too slow and he managed to sweep her feet from beneath her. She was furious, raging like mad in the nurses office.   
It actually kind of terrified me, if I'm being honest. I've not seen her lose her temper like that since I met her. She was actually ready to strangle Mark, and would have done with no regrets in that moment. 

Hmm. Maybe that's all she needs to get going in the ring ..   
I slap her on the shoulder and motion for her to follow me. 'Where are you going?'   
I stand in the middle of the mat, cracking my knuckles. 'We're going to fight.' Her face drops with shock, and she shakes her head immediately, backing away slowly. 'No. No, we're not.'   
'Yes, we are. You're doing well at the bag, but you need to practice on an actual opponent. Come on. Now.'   
She glares at me, and crosses her arms. 'What, are you a coward?'   
'No!'   
I smirk. 'Then fight me.'   
She scoffs, disbelievingly, turning around and calling over her shoulder.   
'I'm not fighting my friend.' 

'Maybe Eric was right about you.' I say, softly. She stiffens, her back to me. 'Maybe you're not cut out for Dauntless.' She turns on her heels and stalks up to the edge, eyes wide and lips turned into a snarl.   
'What did you just say?'   
I shrug, and inspect my fingernails nonchalantly. 'You're not strong enough. It's not fun to fight your friends, but it's what you gotta do to pass Dauntless training. If you can't do it, you don't belong here. I'm sure you can get a transfer - maybe to Amity? Don't be ashamed. You're just not strong enough.' I meet her eyes as the last sentence passes my lips, and it's barely out when she leaps in a blaze of fury, sinking a fist into my stomach. I grunt, pushing her by the shoulder, and try to get a kick in. Unsuccessful, the next punch lands to my jaw, knocking me off kilter and lending me to stumble shakily. The next hit has me on the floor and Jess is on top of me, light but warm and solid. 'How's that for not being strong?' She hisses through clenched teeth, and swipes down again. It misses me by inches, my head turning at just the right time. I bring my knee up, catching her between her legs. She screeches like a wounded animal, flying off me. Before I can get to my feet, her own foot has caught my shoulder with a deafening crack. Tears sting my eyes as the pain rips my body in two, and I fall back with a crash, jarring my shoulder unbearably. I cannot hold back the scream that explodes from my throat, and it is the thing that jolts Jess from her fury.   
'Alex..?' She whispers, guilt leaking into her tone. 'Oh, fuck, Alex!'   
I try to find the words to say don't worry, I'm not mad, that I'm proud of her for finding the strength within, but my mind is reeling, white light spotting my vision as I struggle to keep a grasp on consciousness. She tries to lift me, but jumps away in fright when I snarl in agony again.   
'Shit!' I can hear the tears in her voice this time, and then a louder voice, hard as iron, bounces around the walls.   
'What the hell is going on in here?'   
The last thought to surface in the moments before I slide into the dark, is this; Jess may have broken my shoulder, and I have never been prouder. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
'YOU BASTARD!' I shriek, as Bee pushed my dislocated bones back into place with a crack. 'I've been called worse,' she smirks, picking up my patient chart and scribbling something down, the pen scratching against the page irritatingly.  
'Have you experienced any type of pain in your head?' She asks, clicking a small torch on and shining the dim light in my eyes. I follow the beam of yellow as it flicks left, right, up and down. 'Nope.'   
'Nausea?'   
'Nada.'  
'Dizziness?'   
'Nah.'   
She sighs, clicking the light off and reaching for a bottle of neon green liquid. 'Well, the bruise from earlier has gotten even uglier,' she teases. 'But your shoulders sorted, and there's no sign of concussion, so you should be fine. I'm gonna give you some of this,' she holds the glass bottle up, its contents sloshing thickly against the sides. 'Just in case. If you do get any of the symptoms I've asked you about, come straight back.' I nod, watching her pour a plastic shot glass full of medicine.   
'Drink.' I take it, feeling as though I've been dragged back in time to my aptitude test. Swallowing down the sticky concoction I shudder and choke, tongue protesting at the bitter goo leftover. 'That is disgusting,' I complain, as Bee laughs and hands me over some cool water. Accepting it gratefully, I swallow it down whole, my throat could pass for sandpaper at the moment. 'Free to go?' I ask hopefully, and she gives me a look that almost brings the medicine back up. 'Eric wants to speak to you,' she glances at the door. Following her line of sight, I see a tall shadow lingering in the hallway, through the frosted glass. I groan. She snickers. 'Is Jess in trouble?' I ask, suddenly worried.   
Bee gives me another look, this time amusement lights up her face. 'Please. This is Dauntless. We don't get in trouble for beating one another to a pulp. We get commended. Now, scoot. The longer you make him wait, the worse it will be.' With a sinking heart, I slip off the bed and open the door. Eric stares coldly at me, freezing the blood in my veins.   
Ah, fuck.   
Neither of us speak for the longest time. I lean against the wall, not meeting his gaze. The tension could be sliced with a knife, so thick it almost chokes me. 

Eric takes a breath and I close my eyes, waiting for the onslaught.   
'You might want to check the scoreboard.' Is all he says, no emotion to be found in his words. I snap my head up, to find him retreating down the hallway.   
What does he mean?   
Panic flares like fire, pushing me off the wall and in the opposite direction of the leader. I ignore the stares I attract as I sprint through the pit, skidding into the deserted training room. Approaching the board, I look at number twelve, where my name was written just this morning.   
12\. Jess 

I cannot find my name above the red line, and I want to thrust my fist through the screen when I find it sitting primly at number, illuminated in crimson. 

20\. Alex.   
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

I head to bed early, unable to bear Jess' constant apologies and the 'reassurances' from my friends. 

'You'll get back up again, don't worry,' Jay tells me confidently. 'Yeah, I wouldn't get hung up on it.' Charlie pitches in, trying, and failing, to sound comforting. 'I'm not.' I reply, but they both exchange a look, and I see the emotion I despise the most in their eyes. Pity. 

I do not need their goddamn pity. I don't. Jess beat me, fair and square. It's not her fault that I screwed my own score up. Heavy footsteps thud down the steps, and when I turn I see a smug looking Eric. 'I am seriously not in the mood to deal with you.' I snap, not caring about the consequences of being rude right now. Instead of replying, he approaches my bed in silence. The mattress dips low as a weight settles on the edge. 'How are you feeling?' 

I don't know what to say to that. I don't know why he's pretending to care. 'Fine.' I mumble. He angles his seating position so that he can see me. 'You know, you're only giving yourself a disadvantage, trying to help your friends up the ranks.'  
I stare at the ceiling, feeling numb to my core. I don't reply. 

'Do you want some advice?'   
'No.'   
He chuckles at that, like its a joke.   
When calloused fingertips brush my cheek, I start, turning to stare at Eric. His eyes are burning with an emotion I do not recognise, his face is serious and I feel like a deer caught in headlights. His hand does not move from my face as he speaks in a low rumble.   
'Friendships don't tend to last here in Dauntless. Not during initiation. Remember that.'

Later on, when the room is filled with snores and mumbling sleep talkers, I press my hand against the spot where Eric's touch was still lingering on my skin, wondering how one total stranger could make my heart race and my anger rise so fiercely.


	12. The Things We Must Do

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _// I am selfish, I am wrong,_
> 
> _and I am flawed \\\_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Summary from 'Vindicated' by Dashboard Confessional.

It's surprisingly warm, I note, as I jog around the compound to warm up for my routine early morning run. My leggings cling like a second skin as the heat builds up inside my clothes. I just hope they don't start chafing.   
Streams of light bleed down from above, casting shadows around certain spots of the compound. I'm grateful for the shade, it makes it a little easier to breathe. Forty five minutes pass in perfect silence, with the exception of the trains thundering along the rail line in the distance a couple times. Six o clock is approaching when a black dot in the distance catches my attention. I frown. There's never anyone else out here at this time, not since I've started running. I slow as I approach the figure, before speeding up when the silhouette morphs into a tall, muscled man with tattoos trailing his neck and arms. 

Eric is watching me. Squashing down the self consciousness that bubbles up, I run past him determinedly. I do four more laps before I stop, breath tearing through my lungs almost painfully. 'We seem to have a habit of meeting each other at ridiculous hours of the morning.' He states, raising a pierced eyebrow.  
'Yeah.' I'm still panting, and I'm grateful that my cheeks are reddened from exercise already, because the intense way he's looking at me now.. Not that it's making me blush or anything. Ha. No.  
'Have you thought about what I said last night?' He asks, sparking my irritation up.   
'No? Did you say something?'   
When I see the muscle in his jaw jumping, I know I've said the wrong thing. He draws himself closer, and I want to move away, but I won't. I won't give him the satisfaction.   
'I'm trying to help you, Lex.'   
I meet his eyes, narrowing my own in suspicion. 'Why?'   
The question surprises him, and there's a momentary pause before he answers.   
'You're one of the strongest initiates we have. It'd be a shame to see you lose out on a good rank because you were too soft. We don't look for selflessness here. That's for Stiffs.'   
I straighten my posture, shoulders back, chin tilted.   
'Bravery stems from selflessness, sometimes. The dauntless manifesto reads that we must stand for those who cannot stand themselves.'   
He steps closer again, we are now nose to nose - or we would be, if he wasn't ridiculously tall. Seriously, he's at least six foot. I don't back down from his alpha male behaviour. He doesn't scare me. 

The moment is shattered when my stomach rumbles, and mortification drowns me. He smirks, taking a couple steps back. 'You need to eat something.'   
'I will.'   
'You better.'   
I stare, the concern in his tone sending ripples of shock throughout my buzzing veins. 'Il be watching you at breakfast to make sure.'   
'Why, are you gonna start force feeding me?'   
He gives me a look, that says you already know the answer to that one. I have no doubt that he would quite easily tie me up and make me eat.   
Not that he has to, because I'm looking forward to breakfast. I'm starved. I wonder if they'll have those chocolate pastry things today. Mmm.   
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
'How the hell did you end up at the bottom of the scoreboard?' Peter asks nosily, standing a little too close for my liking. We're standing watching Jess' fight with Molly.   
I can't help but smirk as Jess begins in a blaze of fury, completely annihilating her opponent.   
Ignoring Peter's question, I glance across the way to see Eric, who is focused on me and my best enemy, eyes narrowed. He should be watching the fucking fight, I think, gritting my teeth. Just to piss him off further, I lean closer into the side of the tall boy beside me. He doesn't hesitate, wrapping his arm around my waist tightly. Eric's entire body tenses and if looks could kill, myself and Peter would be six foot under by now. 

There's an animalistic shriek from the ring. Jerking my head back, I see Molly leaning over Jess, blood pouring from her abnormally wide nostrils, teeth sunk deep into my best friends forearm. 'Foul!' I scream, stepping forward, ready to sprint in there and take the bitch out with a kick to the head.   
Four gets there first, thick arms forming a chokehold around the bigger girls neck, lifting her off the ground. Jess struggles to sit up, the bite wound leaking crimson heavily. She aims a kick right between Molly's legs, something similar to what I'd done to her yesterday. I grin. Good girl.   
Molly yelps out, before slipping on her own blood and falling to the floor. A sickening crack echoes in the cavernous stone room, and there's panic in Fours eyes when he kneels beside her. Seeing something the rest of us can't, he closes his molten brown eyes and swears under his breath. 'Peter,' he calls out. 'Help me get her to the medical room.'   
Peter goes without hesitating, and a sickened hiss resonates throughout the group of initiates as we see the extent of Molly's injuries. It's mostly blood and gore, but I swear there's a dent in the back of her skull, which can't be good news. My stomach tightens, and Charlie yells my name to break my gaze away from the disgusting head wound. She's helping Jess to her feet, together we guide her to medical. Her forearm is punctuated with the bite marks; Bee applies a thin coating of thin pink cream, Jess squeezes my hand almost to breaking point, hissing between her teeth.   
'Stings like a bitch,' she mutters, wincing. Bee gives her a sympathetic smile, wrapping the wound in white cotton. She produces a needle, long and sharp, filling it with a clear liquid from a glass bottle.   
'Oh, hell no,' Charlie shakes her head and backs off, skin turning a disconcerting shade of green. 'I can't stay in here if she's going to - okay, bye!' She practically throws herself out of the room, slamming the door shut behind her. Jess is inching further and further away from where Bee stands. 'You don't like needles either?' I question quietly. She shakes her head. 'I'm not like her,' she jerks her chin towards the door. 'But I don't think anyone enjoys needles,' she grinds out.   
'Well, you two are not gonna like stage two of training, then,' Bee tells us. It distracts Jess from the needle actually being inserted into her arm, and she glances down as Bee is placing a circle of cotton wool and taping it down on the broken skin.   
'Now that wasn't so bad, was it?' She asks brightly. Jess glares.   
'What's stage two?' I jump in before Jess jumps her, and Bee keeps her back to both of us. 'I'm afraid I've already said too much,' she admits, sounding slightly regretful. 'You'll find out soon enough. Now, get out of my office, and don't come back.' She teases fondly, Jess hops off the table and laughs. Together, we wander down the corridor, but Eric's voice drifting out of a door that's been left ajar halts me. I hang back, glancing through the opening. He looks stressed, like his whole body is coiled on a spring, he could explode at any moment.   
'What do we do now?' A familiar voice that I can't put a name to poses a grim question, the tone of which makes me feel cold.   
'It's not the first time this has happened.' Eric sounds like he's trying to reason with whoever else is in the room with him. He has his back to me, obstructing my view. 'She's going to blame herself,' I hear Four now, speaking with a sigh.   
'Lex, what..?' Jess peers in at the very moment Eric moves away, leaving the sight of Molly lying in a hospital bed, hooked up to a terrifying number of beeping machines.   
Jess pushes the door open before I can pull her back, both of us tumbling in to see Eric, Four and Max - his was the voice I recognised - glaring at us with varying emotions. Four just looks saddened and a little worried, as he tells us to go back to the dormitory.   
Eric snaps, eyes filled with an icy fire burning holes in the both of us. 'Get out. Now.' Max nods and orders us to obey our instructors, but Jess isn't listening, hands wrapped around the metal bars alongside the bed, her knuckles turning white.   
'Is she going to be okay?' She asks, in a distant voice.   
'Jess..' Four begins but she shoots him a look so sharp it could cut glass.   
'Is she going to be okay?' She repeats, voice hardening.   
'We don't know.' Max answers resignedly. 'She could wake up. If she does, there's a great chance of brain damage. If she doesn't, then her life support will be pulled eventually.'   
Taking a moment to look at Max, I realise he too seems too young to have a job laden with such heavy burdens. The creases in his forehead make him older, and there's a tired look in his eye that tells me he's seen this type of situation far too many times. 'I killed her.'   
'No.' Four and Eric answer back in unison, without missing a beat.   
'She slipped and fell, and cracked her skull, causing bone fragments to push into the membrane of her brain tissue.'   
'Because I kicked her. She slipped and fell because I kicked her, and now she's got brain damage.' Jess' voice is rising by the octave, limbs shaking as the sheer guilt and regret consumes her every nerve.   
'No, if anyone is to blame, it's me.' Four tells her sternly. 'I should never have put her in that choke hold.'   
I stare at Molly's pale body, dried blood lingering around her nose, lip swollen and split beneath the curved oxygen mask, skin void of colour. A tube protrudes from the middle of her throat, pumping a strange liquid in one IV line and pulling out another in the second.   
'I'm a murderer.' Jess whispers.   
Then her voice lifts again, and all that can be heard from the tiny room in the Dauntless medical ward is one, broken girl screaming the word 'murderer' over and over again, hysteria building and building. I should do something, I think dimly,  
I should hold her, calm her down, say something comforting. But I cannot move my feet, nor can I find the will to speak.   
I don't notice that Bee has slipped into the room until Jess whimpers, and slides back limply into the nurses strong arms. Bee lifts a syringe, sliding the needle from Jess' neck. 'I just sedated her,' she explains, taking in my stunned expression. Carrying her like a child, cradling her against the soft chest of her black nurses uniform, she takes Jess away, leaving me with two leaders, an instructor and a half dead initiate. I feel numb. Or maybe I just don't care. I care about Jess, obviously, but staring at Molly's frame, ventilator forcing air in and out of her chest, I feel nothing. A hand on my shoulder startles me. Eric says something that doesn't reach my ears, and when he begins guiding me gently out I allow him to lead me away. I don't question where he's taking me, blindly following him, lost in my mind as one question attacks me over and over. I don't know the answer to it.. Except, maybe I do. And ignoring it won't make it untrue. It's like I'm not part of reality anymore, I'm an abstract thing just wandering through this realm. I cannot focus on anything except Eric's hand warm in mine - when did that happen?   
People stare and whisper as we walk hand in hand through the Pit, but it's like looking through a cone of rolled up paper; everything seems smaller, and slightly out of focus. 

Maybe I am a bad person. Maybe every dauntless is. Maybe bravery isn't what our faction should be known for; maybe, it should be this: ruthlessness. A lack of remorse. The willingness to do what no good person would be prepared to, in order to bring ourselves higher. A scream echoes in my mind. Not Molly's, someone's else's. Someone who's been gone for a long, long time. My stomach churns dangerously, I swallow the sour bile that rises quickly in my throat. 

I'm not a good person. I never was. The fact that this is only settling in now, winds me. I'm bad, I think. Bad. No, not just bad. I'm rotten. Rotten, right down to my bones.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this is getting kinda dramatic and angst filled. I hope it isn't too over the top, it's important for my character development, specifically for Jess. Comments/kudos give me motivation to continue, knowing that someone out there is enjoying this makes me feel like this isn't a pointless thing! :)


	13. Violence Is Golden

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _in a city of sin, where violence is golden, a black market of dark desire_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Summary&title from 'Where Violence is Golden' by Electric Hellfire Club.

Eric's apartment is neater than I would have thought it to be. It is large and airy, the far wall is just one huge window facing out towards the blinking lights of our city. Erudite is the brightest, even past the midnight hour. I don't know how long I've been sitting here. If I move, I bet my outline would remain on the soft, black leather sofa, scattered with charcoal and white coloured cushions. The sitting room is adjoined to the kitchen, a large Formica island stranded in the middle, the sink perfectly silver, the fridge humming quietly in the background. Eric has done nothing but read, and potter around every so often since we arrived. He's made food, which I politely declined, and tea, which I gratefully accepted. He takes his the same way I like mine, strong and sweet and hot.  
I could really do with using the loo, actually. I've consumed enough of the beverage to fill a million swimming pools, but I'm not so sure I'm strong enough to stand.   
Eric clears his throat, the pages of his book rustling. Looking his way, I note how he is completely absorbed in the story, eyes soft and open, like they were on the morning I met him first. As though he feels my gaze, he glances up, swallowing thickly. I watch his throat convulsing as his Adam's apple bobs with the movement.

I want to lick it, my mind whispers deliriously in the background.   
I jump, startled by my own thoughts. 

Eric drops the book and stands, hovering uncertainly in the one spot. 'Are you alright?' He asks carefully, as though he thinks I am a time bomb that could go off at any moment.   
Who knows, perhaps I am.   
I nod, looking away and trying to fight the blush blooming in my cheeks. 'I um. I need to use your toilet?' I phrase the sentence awkwardly, as more of a question than anything else. He nods, motioning to the second door on the right in the darkened hallway. The only source of light stems from the lamp by his chair, and I am happy with that. He informs me of the position of the hallway light switch, but I shake my head and move slowly to the door he indicated.   
Shutting it behind me with a soft click, I take a moment to bathe in the complete darkness, allowing every shadow to curve around the angles of my body, covering my eyes like a blindfold. I want to sleep, I realise. I just really, really want to sleep. Finding the switch, the light buzzes and flickers a little before streaming forcefully from the naked bulb hanging from the ceiling. I turn the golden lock in the door and slip by the mirror without risking a glance. I'm not ready to see what my reflection holds in its eyes, it's face. Not just yet.   
Relieving your bladder is one of the most amazing feelings a human can experience, in my honest opinion. We never appreciate it, though, not until the dam is seconds away from flooding and you have to use the first bathroom, or reasonable alternative, you stumble across. Stumble being the operative word. Have you ever seen someone who needs to pee walking? Waddling, more like. Thighs clenched, legs bent, hopping across the floor with a determined purpose. It's comical, really. Oh, jeez. I'm so tired. Almost falling off the toilet seat, I clean myself up and flush, approaching the sink with caution. A large mirror is fixed at a tilt on the wall above the pristine taps. I keep my head bowed, my hair is loosening from its knot and falls in strands around my face. Pumping liquid soap into my open palms, I take the time to work the blue substance into a thick, white lather. I could do with a shower, too. Cleaning my hands makes me feel a little calmer, the slow, circular movements lulling me into a relaxed state. Washing off the foam, I dry them, painstakingly careful, on the soft black towel hanging off a silver gilded rail. With a sharp inhale, I glance up, facing the monster I'm growing to despise. The ghost in the mirror is sallow skinned, with bruise like purple shadows gathered beneath dull, green eyes. Chapped lips pull into a snarl. I've been here a week and a half. I've been without my twin for a week and a goddamn half and already, I'm beginning to lose myself. The girl opens her mouth as though to speak, but no words beach the empty silence vibrating in my ears. A knock at the door startles me, and Eric's voice drifts through the thin wood. 'Lex? Are you okay?'   
I don't answer, unlocking the door, hitting the light switch and opening it up to see Eric standing nervously in the hall. I nod, dragging a smile onto my face with as much effort as can be mustered. 'I should probably go back to the dorm. I need to sleep.' 

Eric hesitates, before glancing away from me, back into the kitchen. 'You could stay here.' He suggests, his tone wavering slightly. Stay? With him? 

In his bed? The little voice in the back of my mind pipes up mischievously. I shake the thought away, I know he doesn't mean it like that.   
'That's really nice, Eric, but.. I think Jess needs me right now.'   
'She's staying in Six's apartment tonight.'   
I stare blanking at the wall, listing the names of all other dauntless members I know. Six isn't one.   
'Who the hell is that?' I ask, harsher than I meant it to be.   
'Fours girlfriend.' Eric smirks a little, and I fixate on the movement of his pierced brow.   
'Do they know what's happened? The other initiates?'   
The smirk falls away, replaced with a carefully constructed neutral expression. 'Yes. Four told them that Molly was in a bad way, that Jess wasn't at fault, and that she would be staying elsewhere tonight.'   
I think of Charlie, of Jay, of how worried they would be. I don't realise how deep my teeth are digging into my lower lip until I taste blood, warm and metallic. Eric gently pulls my lip away. 'You're going to hurt yourself.' He chided gently, fingers lingering on my neck. The last time he was this close, he was threatening to kill me. Or letting me know that he could, should he so wished. I'm beginning to get whiplash, I think to myself. The swift way his emotions can change without warning is like being on a roller-coaster; one moment, you're speeding uphill, buzzing with adrenaline and excitement, the next, you're dropping, headed for a dead end, awaiting the impact that never seems to come. 

'You're tired. You don't need to be with the other initiates, they'll just crowd you, ask you questions.'   
Is it just me, or is he trying a bit too hard to convince me to stay?   
I sigh, and nod, relenting. Eric visibly relaxes, exhaling sharply, taking my arm and leading me into what I first assume to be a spare bedroom. I realise it's his when I see black clothes scattered around the floor, spilling from a half open wardrobe, and the scent of musky, masculine deodorant tickles my nose.   
'I can take the couch,' I say immediately, panicking slightly. I don't want to push him out of his bed, he doesn't need to do that. Not for me.   
'Il take the couch,' he says offhandedly, trying to push me closer to the edge of the soft, king sized bed that takes up the majority of the room. I push back, shaking my head and darting out the door. He swears under his breath, and I try not to think about how sexy he sounds.   
I collapse on the couch, shutting my eyes. I feel a shadow standing over me, before I hear the sigh. Then, strong arms are cradling my limp body, holding me closely, carrying me without exertion. ''M not stealing your bed,' I mumble against his clothed chest, my nose brushing against the soft cotton vest top. His arms are bare and his forearm is pressing heatedly into the place where my own shirt has ridden up, exposing my back. 'We'll share it then,' he says, without a hint of annoyance in his words. I can't help but groan as I'm dropped onto a mattress that gives beneath my body, curving around my shape, and the duvet is thick and warm and I roll up in it like a burrito.   
'You can't hog the covers. That is where I draw the line.' Eric teases, but I am too far gone, already half-unconscious. He eases himself in beside me, and I realise he has taken off his shirt. His arm pulls me by my waist, flush against his chest. He is warm, solid, and the movement as he breathes is soothing. I don't protest, relaxing my limbs and drifting away, like dandelion fluff, floating off, piece by piece.   
I hear Eric speaking, in a low growl that sends heat pooling in my belly. Part of me thinks it must be a dream or the product of my exhausted imagination. There's no way he could say anything like. No .. No. 

'I'm not gonna let anything bad happen to you, Lex. Ever. I'm gonna protect you. I promise.'

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unbeta'd, apologies for mistakes. Yay, more Eric/Lex interaction!   
> Eric may seem a bit (correction; _very_ ) OOC in this chapter, but I suppose this is just my interpretation of what he might be like if he saw someone he's growing to care about getting hurt. Don't worry, nasty Eric makes a comeback next chapter. As always, thanks for reading! Comments/kudos are like digital cookies!


	14. Screaming In Your Sleep

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _in the shape of things to come, too much poison, come undone_

_A gentle breeze lifts my hair, loose and tangled as it fans out behind me. The field I'm standing in is lush and green, wheat growing tall, tickling my bare calves. A white cotton dress floats around my knees, light and airy and gentle against my skin. The sun beams down in strong streams, warming my face. I don't remember how I got here. I don't remember anything. A whisper on the wind catches my attention. Someone is calling my name, in the distance. I turn, catching sight of a single, tall tree hovering at the edge of the field. It's branches open up towards the empty sky. I walk, barefoot, along the ground, slowly, the skirt of my dress swirling slightly._  
As I get closer, I see a dot beneath the tree, too small to be a fully grown person, I think. My gait does not quicken. I am floating serenely across this strange, unfamiliar place, arms hanging loosely at my sides. Muffled cries grow louder as the gap between myself and the dot becomes smaller. I realise the person is kneeling, legs pressed to the dry soil beneath them. I notice the tree has no leaves, the branches are twisted and withered, the trunk gnarled, shedding strips of bark. There has been no rainfall here, nothing grows, the dirt is hard and rocky, a stark contrast to the perfect pasture behind me. Ash blonde hair falls over the mans hands, hiding his face. Another body lies on the floor, spread eagled, eyes closed. I recognise this one immediately. A silent gasp passes my lips, but the kneeling person appears to have heard it regardless. His neck snaps up unnaturally fast, I wait for the crack that signals the breaking of his bones, but it does not come. I know this man, too. He looks so different since last we met, face older, pallid, purple half moons rising beneath watery blue eyes. He reaches for me with an anguished cry, words bubbling on his shaky lips. 'I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I didn't know. I didn't realise-' he cuts off with a choked sob, and that's when I realise. Gabriel, on the floor, is not breathing. There are no signs of injury, no blood on his clothes, no wound to be seen.   
But his chest is still and he's almost translucent, he's that pale. When I bend to touch the back of his hand, he's icy cold. I turn, staring at my elder brother in horror. 'What did you do?' I whisper, unable to hide the tremor running through my words. 'I'm sorry!' He cries. In a flash, he's thrown himself towards me, curled in a heap at my feet. His bony hands grasp at my legs, tugging on the hem of my dress. I jump back, and kick him away, and open my mouth, beginning to scream. 

'Alex! ALEX!' A rough voice drags me back to reality, large hands shaking my shoulders gently. Opening my eyes, I gasp, seeing Eric's face close to mine. Frown lines are etched into his forehead, his eyes wide and panicked slightly. I inhale and exhale, the breaths shuddering and rattling my chest. 'You were screaming,' he says, quietly, icy blues boring intensely into my eyes. I sit up, and he moves back, perching on the edge of the bed. His bed, I remember suddenly. Memories of last night flood my mind mercilessly, the fight, the sound of Molly's skull splitting open, Jess' screams, the way I froze completely, my whole system shutting down. Like a machine, the voice in my head taunts with a snicker. I think of how I felt, watching the half dead girl lying in that hospital bed, limp and lifeless, a machine working her lungs for her. I scan for any sense of emotion, but I find that I still do not care for her well being. Worry nips at my nerves, I wonder if Jess is okay, if Jay's been looking for me. Eric is still watching my form, torso folded in half over my legs, still covered by the thick black duvet. Heat rolls like a wave over me, a sudden sweat breaking out, sweat beading up on the back of my neck. Pushing back my hair, I shove the blanket away and swing my legs onto the wooden floor. I flinch when I realise I'm barefoot, again. The dream flickers behind my eyelids, my chest tightening painfully. 'Are you okay?'   
I nod, refusing to look into Eric's eyes again. It makes me self conscious, like he can see behind the masks I've spent years perfecting with ease.   
I rub my hand over my face, staring down at my bare legs. Bare legs?   
What?   
Oh, yeah. Eric lent me a pair of his boxer shorts to sleep in. More comfortable to sleep in than jeans, he'd reasoned. I'd had to knot the excess material up at the side and secure it with my hair tie, to prevent them sliding straight back down. I have one of his oversized black shirts on, too. Standing up, I find myself staring into the mirror on the door of the open wardrobe, shocked at the difference in our sizes. The tee shirt reaches to my knees, the sleeves tipping my elbows. Eric clears his throat, and I snap out of my daze, suddenly uncomfortable with the fact that A, I slept in a leaders bed last night, and B, I wore his clothes to sleep. I have his boxers on, for crying out loud. Heat pools low in my belly and I ignore it the best I can. I'll admit, Eric is an attractive man. His arms are decorated with intricate tattoos, the golden skin standing out beneath the black. Tight bands of muscle roll beneath the skin, both intimating and inviting at the same time. There's a tattoo on his huge chest, too. He's not wearing a shirt, so I can see it now. I don't focus on it, for fear of being caught staring. And damn, those steely, icy blue-grey eyes. They make me feel like I'm the only person in the room when he looks at me. He is a gorgeous guy. Even when he's being a sadistic fucker, no- especially when he's being a sadistic fucker. I shiver as I wonder what that might mean about me. I push away the thoughts of him, embarrassed. If he ever found out that me, a stupid little initiate with a screwed up coping mechanism had a - oh, God - crush on him, he'd never let me live it down.   
'Oh, shit! Aren't we late for training?' I panic, suddenly moving towards the door like a flash of lightening. Then, the hands are on my shoulders again, rubbing them gently, coaxing me into a more relaxed state. 'Don't worry. Trainings cancelled today.' He murmurs in my ear, hot breath curling around the shell of my ear. I can feel the heat of his palms through the tee shirt. My skin tingles where he touches me, and that's not even direct contact. I move away again, nodding slightly, trying to clear the train wreck of thoughts crashing around my brain. 'Oh, okay. Um, I should probably go, then. I don't want to intrude for longer than I already have.' I force a polite smile, strained. He shakes his head, concern crossing his features. 'You can stay here for as long as you like. I'll make some breakfast, some coffee.. You could take a shower here, too. If you'd like to.'   
I pause, analysing his tone. I search for any hint of annoyance in his tone, unable to detect anything but sincerity. I hesitate. On one hand, I'm desperate to see Jess, and Jay, to find out more about what's going to happen with Molly, and if Jess could get in trouble for this. Like, major, Candor trial, prison time trouble.   
On the other, the thought of spending the day with Eric is strangely appealing. My head argues with my heart, the angel my left shoulder, the devil on my right.   
'Is that your way of telling me that I smell?' I joke weakly, pleased to see his body relaxing. He laughs, a proper laugh, deep, throaty. Sexy, whispers that same, stupid voice in mind. Shut the fuck up! I yell back at it (silently, of course) before realising that talking to the voices in my head may be grounds for insanity.   
Eric leads me back to the bathroom I used last night, insisting that he show me how to use the shower.   
'I have used them before, you know, I protest indignantly. He shrugs. 'Mine is weird, and finicky to work properly. Unless you'd rather be stuck in a stream of ice cold water or scalding spray, and have me come in when you're naked..' He raises an eyebrow, and I almost choke on my own spit. I shake my head, hating myself for the blush blooming in my cheeks. I keep my head down until he starts showing me which buttons to press, how to get the water pressure and the temperature just right. 'Got it?' He asks, looking down at me. I nod, reaching for the button he said made the water flow. How I manage to screw it up, I seriously don't know. The water is lukewarm as it spurts like heavy rain, soaking the both of us. I slam the button again, abruptly cutting it off. 'I'm sorry.' I whisper, thinking of how mad he could get at the simplest of things. 'I'm so sorry. I didn't -' 'Alex, relax.' My hand is still resting against the button, and he covers it with his own. My breath hitches as he tells me, 'it just needs a gentle touch.' I jump away like I've been shocked, ignoring the smirk on Eric's face. 'Okay. Thanks. I can, uh, I can usually manage this bit on my own.' Crossing thick arms over that bare chest, he raises his pierced brow suggestively. 'Are you sure? I don't mind giving you a hand,' he winks, butterflies flying up a goddamn tornado in my stomach. I can't even get my mouth to work to snap back, and he smirks wider at my speechless face. 'I'm pretty good at back massages..' He moves closer, moving back a strand of my hair. It's greasy and knotted, and fuck, do I want to just get rid of it already.   
'I want to cut my hair.' Eric's expression swaps to one of surprise. I have a feeling it was not the reaction he expected. 'I'll take you down to the hairdressers when you've had your shower. Don't wash it, they'll do that for you there.' I nod, avoiding his eyes again. He sighs, and I'm pretty sure I imagined the disappoint in that one small exhale.   
When I look up, he's turned his back to me, and I take a moment to appreciate the muscles rolling beneath his skin. When he leaves me alone, I start up the water again, undressing quickly and taking the hair tie from the boxers, quickly pinning the unruly blonde locks into a high bun. The water is warm, and I savour the feeling of getting clean, using Eric's mint scented shower gel, which spawns another inappropriate thought about the young leader. 'I'm going to smell like him..' I bite my lip in frustration (both at myself, and him, for being so damn hot), before focusing on the water and working up a lather on my skin, washing away the nightmares, washing away the horrific events of yesterday. 

~~~~~~~~~~   
When Eric introduces me to the main hair stylist in the Pit, I'm surprised to see them shaking hands and exchanging genuine smiles. They're friends, I realise. Not that I thought Eric had no friends, I just.. Thought he had no friends. Four, maybe, but there was a little too much tension between both of them to ever call it a real friendship.   
'Steven, this is Alex,' he introduces me to the tall, tan man with purple, spiky hair and various diamonds glinting in face. His smile is dazzling, hazel eyes bright and narrowed. Already listing styles in his head for me, I'd bet. 'Nice to meet you!' He grasps my hand firmly and shakes it. His hands are too soft, in comparison to Eric's. It doesn't feel right.   
I ignore that thought. I didn't think that. Nope. No. Nope.   
'What style were you thinking of going for?' He asks, settling me in a comfortable, spinning chair in front of a mirror, studded around the edge with lightbulbs. I think for a moment, looking at myself hard. At least I look well rested, this morning. My eyes are not weighed down with bags, nor do I look as sickly pale as before. My cheeks have a rosy glow to to them, my green eyes lighter and less .. Tired. I appraise the mop of disgusting looking hair on my head, before making a snap decision.   
'I want it all cut. Like a boys haircut.' Steven frowns. 'Can you be more specific? Wait!' He rummaged through a large, cardboard box before producing a folder full of hairstyles. 'Did you do all these?' I ask, flipping through the catalogue of awesome hair. 'Yup.' He says, proudly. There's even a photo of Eric, clearly from when he was an initiate himself. His hair was slightly longer, kind of curly. The way he has it now definitely suits him better, though.   
I turn the pages until I spot a style I like, and I point it out eagerly.   
'Do you want the sides shaved, too?' Steven checks, and I nod, without thinking. Eric glances at me in surprise. I don't think he thought I wanted to get this much chopped. I don't think I did, either. But I'm here now, and I'm making the decision to cut away the old parts of me, resolving to leave the ghost of the weaker Alex here, when I'm done. I will be stronger, I will be dauntless. I won't let silly accidents, emotions, or lack thereof, in this case, to control me. I will be stronger. I will be stronger. I have to be stronger.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Summary from Placebo's 'Every Me and Every You,' I really recommend listening to it, and their other songs. They're amazing!   
> Sorry this took so long, I couldn't get the 'morning after' scene to go right, at all. I hope you like this! As always, comments & kudos are appreciated, as are you, reader, for taking the time to read this. Happy Easter, by the way! And happy Sunday, to those who don't celebrate! Hope you all have a great day, regardless :)


	15. I Can't Help Falling Too Fast

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Don’t you see me now? I think I’m falling, I’m falling for you. Don’t you need me? I, I think I’m falling, I’m falling for you. And on this night and in this light_

'I fucking love orange juice,' I declare proudly, stabbing the straw into the bright blue juice box. Eric watches in amusement. 'You know, people buy those for their children.'  
I glare, cradling my drink protectively. 'I like my juice boxes.'   
He chuckles, shaking his head and looking down at the table. 

I'm trying not to mention the fact that everyone in the mess hall is staring at us. Not, like, outright looking in our direction, because most of them are terrified of Eric. But sending covert glances our way, whispers traveling in circles around the room. I have a feeling Eric doesn't tend to associate with initiates. He either hasn't noticed - not likely - or he just doesn't care. My head feels lighter than usual, my hair cut shorter than ever before. The electric blue locks are spiked up, when Steven was finished I couldn't help but stare at myself with awe. I didn't look like Alexis anymore. I almost didn't recognise myself; but in the good way. My body has become stronger, muscles beginning to show in my arms, the tight black vest top I wear emphasises this greatly.   
I don't think I've felt this comfortable in my own skin in a very long time.   
Next on my list is a tattoo, I'm just deciding which one I want the most. 

A loud yell startles me, and long, tanned arms stretch around my torso tightly. 'You're hair is blue!' Jay shrieks excitedly, planting himself on the seat next to me and ruffling my hair. People are really staring, now. Though it's nothing unusual, the Dauntless are far from calm and collected. I laugh, nudging him in the ribs gently. 'Really? I never noticed,' he smacks my arm gently, grinning over at me. 'I love it!' He admits, suddenly taking notice of the man across the table. 'Oh, hi, Eric,' he greets cheerfully. 'Juice box!' Reaching a hand out for my drink I snatch it away and slap his hand. 'Mine.'I growl, taking a mouthful and gulping hard. He pouts. 'But I'm thirsty!' He moans, leaning his cheek on one hand. I see the muscles beginning to build on him, too.   
It's crazy, how much we've changed physically since we got here. I wonder how Gabriel is doing over in Amity. It's the wrong thing to think about, my chest squeezing painfully. I miss him terribly. It's like losing your shadow, half of your body, a leg, an arm, half a heart. Jay notices my sudden quietness, and threads our fingers together reassuringly. 'I should go.' Eric stands abruptly, eyes freezing hard. His voice is cold and flat, and he doesn't meet my eyes when I glance up.   
'Oh. Okay.' I say in surprise. He turns on his heel and stalks off, heading for the doors and disappearing around a corner. 'Bye, then,' I frown, shaking my head. Damn mood swings.   
'So, I was thinking. We've been in Dauntless for almost two whole weeks, and neither of us have gotten a tattoo yet!' Jay seems oblivious to the tension Eric left in his wake. I try to push the thoughts of him away and focus on our conversation.   
'Hm, yeah. Shocking,' I waggle my eyebrows as he scoffs and shakes his head. 'Seriously though. We need to get some ink, Lex.'   
I hesitate. 'We really do. But..' Looking down at my clasped hands, I take a couple of breaths to steady myself. Jay waits patiently for me to finish. 'I kind of wanted to wait for Jess.'   
He inhales sharply, nodding. 'Yeah. Yeah.'   
'Have you spoken to her?'   
'No. Haven't even seen her since yesterday.. Speaking of. Where the hell did you disappear to?'   
I choke on a mouthful of juice and wipe my mouth with the back of my hand hurriedly. 'I - um- well - it was - '   
Jay's eyes widen as he watches me splutter unattractively. 'Uh. I kinda, like. Stayed in.. In Eric's flat, last night?'   
'WHAT!' His voice booms and bounces off the walls. The entire room seems to fall silent, every pair of eyes turning to us. Shaking the box to ensure the juice is all gone, I abandon it and drag Jay by the forearm out of the sea of prying stares. 'Did you say that loud enough? I don't think they heard you down in Amity!' I hiss. He cringes, apologising. 'I'm sorry! But, you stayed in Eric's apartment? The guy who forced Mark to hang over the Chasm for tapping out of a fight? The guy who made you stand in front of a target while Four threw knives at your head?' We wander down a deserted corridor, and I feel a little safer in the darkened shadows. 'No, the other Eric. The one that bakes cakes and lets us sleep in and makes daisy chains.' I reply sarcastically. Jay stops and places a firm hand on my shoulder. 'Did anything happen?' He wants to know, sordid curiosity sparking in his eyes. 'No!' I fail to fight the blush from my cheeks as I remember how close Eric held me last night, his warm, strong arm wrapped around my waist. The little, flirty conversation in the shower. His comment about back massages.   
Oh, and the words I'm not 100% sure I dreamed up.   
'I'm not gonna let anything bad happen to you..'

'Hello?! Earth to Lex?' Jay waves a hand in front of my face, sounding frustrated. 'Sorry. No, nothing happened. Geez, Jay.'   
'Why'd you go red then?'   
'No I didn't,' I mutter defensively.   
He snorts, crossing his arms. 'Yes, you did.'   
'No, I didn't.'   
'You're practically fluorescent right now.'   
'Fuck off.' 

The sound of a door opening and closing nearby distracts him for a second, enough time for me to slip away from Jay's questioning. The corridor curves around, revealing doorways, more apartments, numbers glued atop the wood.   
Jess is standing outside number 11, a small brunette by her side. They're speaking in hushed murmurs. Jess' expression is blank, eyes void of emotion.   
Jay steps forward. 'Jess..?'   
She glances at us for a moment, no hint of recognition lifting her features.   
'Hello.' She mutters flatly.   
'Are these friends of yours?' The girl asks. She turns, and I can see three birds tattooed onto her collarbone beneath the black scoop neck clinging to her frame.   
Jess nods, almost imperceptibly. Her wavy hair is tied into a messy ponytail, bedraggled and lopsided.   
'I'm Alex.' I offer my hand, which is taken by a tiny palm and shaken firmly. Jay does the same, introducing himself, eyes flickering from me to Jess and back.   
'Tris. But you can call me Six.'   
I nod. 'You're Four's girl?'   
She blushes, and ducks her head. It's kind of adorable, really. Her hair is short, like mine now, but without the shaved sides. 'I didn't think he told the initiates about me.'  
'He didn't. Eric said that Jess was staying in Four's girlfriend place last night.' My voice trembles beneath the words as Jess inhales sharply, closing her eyes.   
Six tilts her head, surprised. 'Eric? You've been talking to Eric?'   
Jay, of course, decides that this is the perfect time to pitch in. 'She stayed in his flat last night.'   
I glare, shoving him back a couple steps. Looking back to Six, I notice that Jess has reopened her eyes, and is staring straight at me. The glint in her eyes raises hairs at the back of my neck. Six is frowning. 'Eric? Eric the leader?' She clarifies.   
I nod, suddenly embarrassed.   
'Wow.' She shakes her head, crossing her arms and raising an eyebrow. 'You must be special.'   
I flush at that, looking back down the corridor. I'm not. He was just being nice. That's what I want to say, but I'll end up getting laughed at. Eric doesn't do things just to be nice. Not for anyone else. 

I clear my throat, an attempt to vanquish the awkwardness that has settled in the air.   
'Jess, you coming with us?' Jay asks quietly, and his face falls when she shakes her head, gaze returned to the stone floor. Tris nips at her lower lip, watching Jess. The atmosphere is uncomfortable, the air too stuffy, it's hard to breathe. 'She's gonna stay with me, for a couple days. Until everything gets sorted.' Jess flinches.   
I cannot reach out and touch her. Comfort her. She seems so distant and cold, and I'm getting pretty sick of losing people I care about. So I nod and smile at Tris and I turn and walk away, throat swollen with anger and pain and grief. Flashbacks roll behind my eyelids like a horror film montage, at home, the barn, painful screams, a broken body, a broken cry - I turn and slam my fist against the wall in frustration. Jay has not followed me. Clever boy.   
He knows when I need to not be alone, and when I need to be alone.   
I scream with my lips closed in an attempt to mute the sound.   
'That's not a happy noise..' Drawls a voice from behind me. Turning slowly, I watch Eric's figure appearing from the shadows. I sigh, shoulders slumping. Pressing my forehead to the cool stone in front of me, I clench my throbbing fist and hold back the tears threatening to spill.   
'Go away.' I mutter, clenching my eyes shut. Maybe if I wish it hard enough, I'll disappear to someplace quieter than the inside of my mind.   
'You and your boyfriend have a fight?' He taunts mockingly, and if I weren't so suddenly exhausted, I'd be getting riled. 'I don't have a boyfriend,' I whisper exasperatedly, wondering where the fuck this came from.  
'What about Jay?'  
'What about him?' I snap back, words sharp as a knife.   
'I thought you and him..'  
'You thought wrong.'   
He pauses. Neither of us speak. After a few moments I turn, leaning against the wall, eyes dry, face carefully neutral. 'What happened?' He asks, cautiously.   
'Nothing.'   
He scoffs. 'Yeah, because I punch the wall all the time, over nothing.' He replies sarcastically. I grit my teeth.  
'Look, it's none of your business, okay?'  
'I don't like being refused.' He murmurs softly. I lift my head, meeting his eyes. These are words he spoke to me not even a month ago, the first time we met. I laugh shakily. 'Learn to.' 

He steps towards me, leaning closer. 'Are you okay?' His voice has taken on a serious note. 'Yeah.'   
He steps forward again. There's an inch of space between us. Calloused palms cup my face and tilt it upward towards him. 'You sure?' I nod, this time unable to speak. We're so close I can feel his chest moving up and down with each breath. I can count every single fair eyelash, and see the exact point where each metal stud pierced his skin. He presses me against the wall, our bodies flush.  
'Eric..' I whisper, paralysed with conflict. I want him, I realise. I want him. I've wanted him since the day I arrived here at the compound. But he's a leader. I'm an initiate. He could do better. So much better. I whisper these concerns, only getting to '-and I'm just an initiate-' before he shakes his head and shushes quietly. One hand runs through my freshly cut hair, the other rests against my cheek, thumb brushing the heated skin.   
'Alex. Do you want this?' He asks, huskily, muscles bunching beneath the black leather jacket covering his broad shoulders. He tightens his grip on my face ever so slightly, not enough to hurt, just enough to be possessive. 'Do you want me?' He breathes the last four words, eyes burning into mine with an intensity that draws the oxygen from my lungs and leaves my mind floundering. How do I breath again? How do I speak?   
I settle for a quick nod, and there's barely any time before there are warm, full lips covering mine. I lean against Eric's chest, wrapping my arms around his neck, reaching up on my toes to ensure maximum contact between us. He grasps my hair and tugs, eliciting a shameful moan. His tongue settles against my open mouth, waiting for permission. I bite his bottom lip impatiently, the resulting growl would have me on the ground if it weren't for Eric's firm hold. His hands wander to my hips, curving over my ass and squeezing there, continuing to the back of my thighs. Hauling me upwards, my legs automatically wrap around his waist, my back pressed to the wall.   
He swears against my lips, biting harshly and pressing his mouth against my jawline, along the slope of my neck, sucking bruises and leaving teeth marks on the tender skin. I groan and struggle helplessly against him. He's wearing too many clothes, and so am I, and I don't care if we're in a goddamn public place I want his shirt off, and I want it off now. Pushing back the lapels of his jacket he pulls away and let's me slide down, I whimper at the loss of contact. He smirks, pupils blown wide and dark and glinting beautifully. 'Not here,' he whispers, and just like that, the moment is broken.

Oh god. What have I just done? Fuck. Fuck. Fuck!   
'I- I- I have to go!' I duck under his arm and begin to sprint down, away from him, away from the compound. My head is reeling, lips burning, heart threatening to burst straight through my chest. I run until I hit the train tracks, until the train comes and I fling my body haphazardly inside of the carriage, lying there, trying desperately to control my breathing.   
Why do I always fuck everything up? Caring about people just gets you hurt. Damn it. Damn this.   
What do I do now?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Summary from the 1975's fallingforyou. 
> 
> A kiss! And it only took 15 chapters :)


	16. The Calm Before The Storm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _And what meant the world had folded  
>  like legs and fingers holding onto what escapes me;   
> what he has; a better kiss that never lasts _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title&summary from fall out boys 'calm before the storm'. I do not own divergent, or it's characters, just those of my own creation. (And the plot.)

Peter is on me the moment I walk back into the dormitory, pinning me beneath his body on my bed.   
'OI! Get off,' I spit between gritted teeth, struggling to push him off.   
'No no no! Where have you been?' He demands, tightening his hands around my wrists. He is heavy against my tired limbs, and I cannot fight him right now. 'I was out,' I mumble, eyes fluttering shut. The rest of the initiates are still out, enjoying their last few free minutes before curfew.   
'Out? Since yesterday afternoon?' He makes a face. 'And you come back with your hair all fucked up?'   
The last comment riles me up, irritation surging through my body. I twist and flip and turn us over, so that I have the upper hand. He wriggles (almost adorably), pouting up at me. I snicker at his sudden helplessness.   
'I was out, okay?' I say firmly, glaring heatedly. 'And yeah, so my hair is all fucked up. So what?' I challenge, digging my nails into the soft flesh of his inner wrists. 'Ow!'   
'Good.' I say smugly, loosening my fingers and leaning back.   
'Did you hear anything about Molly?' He asks, as causal as if he were making small talk about the weather. 'Not since yesterday.'   
'Me either.' His hands settle at my waist, and I hold back the stunned laughter that threatens to spill out.   
Peter is an asshole. There is no doubt in that. He is sadistic, he is a total suck up, he only cares about himself. And yet I find that being with him, is as easy breathing. It's so freaking natural, the way I relax, in the strange position we're currently in. God, it probably looks worse than it is. Me straddling his hips, his hands on mine. This thought brings me back to earlier, to Eric, our encounter in the hallway. Butterflies erupt like fluttering lava in my stomach, my lips tingling from where his fit against them like matching jigsaw pieces. There are bruises hidden by my shirt, painted there by Eric's teeth and mouth. Eric is also sadistic, violent, terrifying.   
Hey, maybe I have a type. 

The comfortable silence is broken with a thunderous roar from the stairwell. Jumping, Peter sits, causing our chests to bump. He grins and turns to Eric, who is glaring our way with fire burning in his eyes.   
'Where are the rest of the initiates? It's past curfew.' I shrug. So does Peter. Eric growls, annoyed.   
'I just got back, alright? So I don't know.'  
'And I've been in here since after dinner, so either do I.'   
Eric's jaw clenches tightly, eyes narrowing. 'You're not supposed to be that close to other initiates. Get off each other.' When neither of us move, his hands curl around the railing until his knuckles turn white. 'Now.'   
Peter wraps his around my torso, pulling me against his chest and crying out over dramatically. 'But she's my one true love! The lady of my dreams! You cannot destroy our love!' I giggle helplessly against his chest, and damn, it feels good to laugh again. The past two days seem to have lasted a million years, dark and heavy and far too bleak.   
'TAKE YOUR HANDS AWAY FROM HER. NOW!'  
Peter is startled by the sudden rise in the volume of Eric's voice. He releases me and I slide away, pushing him off the edge of the bed. He slinks over to his own cot, holding his hands up in mock surrender. 'Happy now?' He snarks, flopping down onto the thin mattress, sending a whiny creak throughout the room from his weight on the rickety bed.   
Faint chatter approaches from the hallway, and the initiates spill in, laughing and talking, before silence overtakes the group as they spot Eric. 'You're late.' His voice is flat and cold, and I can tell without glancing up that he's still looking at me. Clasping my hands together in my lap, I try to ignore the electricity running up and down my spine at the mere thought of him focusing on me. Why did I run away earlier?   
Oh, yeah. Because I'm a fucking idiot with the biggest damn inferiority complex ever. I got scared, and now I hate myself. I'm supposed to be dauntless, and dauntless face their fears. They don't fucking hide away.   
After Eric is finishing tearing us all a new asshole, he calls my name and when I finally look up, he jerks his head towards the hallway, stalking out with his shoulders tense. 

Breathing in deeply, I ignore the whispers and the stares, squeezing Charlie's hand as I pass, accepting Jay's hug. 'Are you okay?' I nod, patting his shoulder and climbing the stairs slowly. Wandering out into the corridor, I find him staring at the wall beside me. I'm almost surprised that there aren't holes burnt into the cement, from the intensity of his glare. He's leaning on the opposite wall with one shoulder, and I don't know why I find that so attractive. The black tee shirt is tight against his torso, the huge biceps tensed, arms crossed over his chest. 

'I'm sorry about earlier.' He speaks abruptly, not looking at me, voice flat. I stare at him, willing him to meet my eyes. 'If I made you feel like you had to do something you didn't want to do, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to scare you, I didn't mean to make you run away. I won't bring it up again. I'm assuming you want to forget it ever happened. That's fine. I can do that.'   
I try to get my head around his words and before I have time to come up with a response, he's pushed away and began walking back down the corridor. I run after him, my legs are shorter than his, so I have to sprint to keep up with his lengthy strides.   
'Hey!' He pauses and I stand in front of him. Infuriatingly, his eyes focus on the space over my shoulder. Curling my fist, I open my mouth. 'Look at me.' When he doesn't, I slam both palms against his chest and yell. 'LOOK AT ME.' His eyes are widened with surprise and his hands wrap around my wrists, mimicking Peter's action not ten minutes ago. This is different though, in a way I'm not sure how to describe. When Eric touches me it's like.. It feels like .. Oh, I don't fucking know, I just know that it feels right, it feels nice, and I never want him to let go. 'Why would you just assume I was afraid earlier, because I ran? That wasn't why I left.' He pulls me down an adjoined corridor, darker, deserted. 'Then why?'   
'I was scared. But not of you,' I explain, but he still doesn't understand. I can tell by the way his brow creases, the way his lips form a tight line. 'I - I've never felt like this before, Eric. I've never met anyone who can make me so angry, but so.. so.. I don't know, happy, at the same time. Most of the time, I wanna smack you, for being nasty or cruel. But at the same time, I want..' My voice trails away into nothing, now I'm the one who can't meet his eyes.  
'What do you want, Alex?' I lean my head against his chest, never used to the way my body reacts to how he says my name. Like its something precious, something rare and fragile that he has to be careful with. So rough and deep, like gravel and velvet. 'You.' I whisper against the soft cotton, and when he pulls away, and catches my cheek in one hand, he staring with an expression filled with awe and wonder. The other hand slides down my arm, leaving tingles and goosebumps rising on my bare flesh, fingers threading through mine and gripping tightly. 'C'mon.' He leads me back down the corridor, taking backdoors and empty hallways towards the leaders quarters. He swiftly opens the door with a steady hand, holding it open for me first. Slipping inside, he closes the door, keeping his back to it. 'Are you even allowed to do this? Won't you get in trouble?' He smirks, drawing me into him with large, strong arms and biting gently on my earlobe. 'Only if we're caught,' he chuckles deeply, hot breath tickling my ear.   
My breath hitches as he moves his lips to the sweet spot behind my ear, sucking harshly at the soft skin.   
I moan, curling my hands on the shoulders of his shirt. 'Fuck,' he growls, brushing his nose down my neck, light as a feather, bringing his face inches from mine. I make the move this time, leaning up on my toes, pressing our lips together. He bites down on my lip, and fuck, he's rough, but slow and passionate, and that's just with his kissing.   
When his hands wander up the curve of my spine, beneath my own shirt, I shiver beneath his touch, fingertips tracing smooth circles around my spine. A new fear sets in without warning - what if Eric wants to go all the way tonight? I gasp into his mouth, pulling away, hiding my face in his neck with embarrassment. Immediately, his hands retreat from my skin, coming to cup my face gently. 'What's wrong? Did I do something?' I shake my head, still wanting to be close to him, just .. Not in _that_ way. Not tonight.   
'No, I just.. I want to take things slow.. If that's alright.' My cheeks burn but he kisses them both swiftly, stroking my hair. 'Of course it's alright, Lexie. We can go as fast or as slow as you want. I wanna do this right.' He takes my hands in his, they're so big, and mine seem almost childlike against his. I glance up in surprise at the nickname.   
'What?' He asks suspiciously, at the amused look on my face.   
'You called me Lexie.' I giggle, pulling my hands over my mouth. His cheeks redden slightly and he rubs the back of his neck, coughing. 'Oh. Uh, sorry, I didn't - I won't do it again, um. Sorry.' I like seeing him flustered, I never have before and I doubt I'll see it very much at all, so I savour the moment and lean into him, his arms automatically winding around my waist. 'It's fine. I don't mind.'   
I feel his pressing a kiss to my forehead, and he's smiling when I pull back. 'You should probably go back to the dorms. The other initiates might think I killed you.' He says reluctantly. I pout, and kiss along his jawline, smirking as he moves his head to the side to allow for more access as I travel down his neck. 'Can't I stay here?' I ask innocently against his skin, nuzzling his collarbone and biting gently. He groans, pulling me closer with his hands at the small of my back. 'That's - that's not a good idea..'   
'Please?' I stare up from beneath my eyelashes, kissing his lips chastely, my hands wandering downwards, grabbing his ass and squeezing. He growls and captures my mouth in a rough kiss, holding the back of my neck so I can't get away - not that I want to, any road. 'Fine,' he relents, pulling me backwards, leading us both to his bedroom. He lends me his clothes again, and I roll myself like a burrito up in his duvet, peeping out beneath the thick black cover. I watch Eric tugging off his shirt with one hand, eyeing the bare skin, rolling with muscle, appreciatively. He unbuckles the belt holding his jeans up, pooling at his ankles. He kicks them away, turning suddenly.   
He smirks, catching me staring. I burrow beneath the blanket, embarrassed. He effortlessly yanks it off me, flipping me onto my back.   
He hovers over me, dipping his head to brush his lips over my throat. 'Don't be embarrassed, Lexie.' He whispers huskily, making me squirm. I nudge him down on top of me and he tries to move away. I pull at his arms and he shakes his head firmly. 'I'll crush you,' he protests, stroking my cheek. In lieu of reply I keep pulling at his unwavering arms and eventually, he sighs, carefully positioning himself so that the majority of his weight lies between my legs, his head curled into the crook of my neck. He pulls the blanket up over us both, and I drape my legs around his waist. He suddenly lifts his head, frowning. I wait, wondering what's wrong.   
'Where did you get these?' He asks gently, tracing his fingertips over the faint, faded scars streaked like lightening bolts across my skin. The worst affected area is the patch around my right collarbone, a collection of jagged, white tissue spread around like some strange disease. I shake my head, shivering at the featherlight brushes of his skin against mine. 'I don't know. They've been there for as long as I can remember.' You cant really see them anymore, not unless you're this close to me, which no one else has ever been.   
'Mm,' he settles back down, breathing out heavily. He's still frowning when I glanxe down, and my stomach turns uneasily. Why is he so upset by this? His hand finds mine, threading our fingers together tightly.   
Exhausted, I drift off almost immediately. I haven't felt this safe, or warm or secure in a long, long time. With Eric's solid warmth covering me, his heart beating in sync with my own, I fall into a peaceful slumber, ready for for tomorrow and whatever it may bring.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is getting so bad, I feel. I just want to get into the bigger part of the story, but I need to set it up firsts and I have feck all patience :( hope you enjoy this :) because there won't be much more nice Eric for a while after the next chapter. Feedback/kudos are very much appreciated, as are all of you, reading this :)


	17. Such Frail Things

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _where'd you go? please come back home_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Summary from 'where'd you go' from fort minor.

_There are smooth, cold hands pressed over my lips, sealing them shut so I cannot scream. Muffled shrieks attempt to escape in vain, no one can hear me, no one can hear me. My heart pounds like a jackhammer in my chest, loud and painful. Another person is moving around behind me, I cannot see them, but I can hear them. I can feel them. I can literally feel the vibrations of the other persons movements, like a bass line running across the floor and climbing up through my legs. I hold my breath for a moment, fear sitting heavy in my bones, they are made of cement and I can't find it in me to struggle. A soft, malicious voice creeps into my ear, breathy and quivering with anticipation. 'Just stay still, Lexie, and we won't have to hurt you. Okay? Good girl.' The hand over my mouth loosens, only to be replaced by a thick line of duct tape, and another, to ensure I keep quiet. Tears begin to fall, slowly, down my cheeks. The same icy hands roughly scrub them away before they reach my chin, a scoff filling the otherwise silent air. 'I thought you said she was tough.' One sneers. The other voice sounds much more familiar, and much more troubled. 'She's a child! Did you have to do this.. In this way? She's going to be scared..' I moan in terror to reinforce this idea in both of their heads (whoever 'they' are) but there's only sigh, and that's when I realise my hands are bound with something - possibly the same tape that holds my lips shut - behind my back, on a hard chair that digs into my back painfully. I wriggle around a little, finding out the reward for a movement is a slap across the back of my head. A back of the hand hit, where I can feel knuckles clunking against my skull._

The pain jerks me into consciousness, leaving me frozen and wide eyed, staring at the beige ceiling above. A single black lampshade hanging down rocks gently, never seeming to stop. I notice the curtains have been pulled open, and one of the windows is ajar, opened vertically, a slight breeze drifting through. Sitting up in the empty bed, I shiver slightly in the cold air. The space next to me still retains warmth, and the outline of a person's body pressed into the mattress. I sigh, yawning, swinging both legs over the edge of the bed. I shuffle down towards the kitchen, pausing when I hear a serious conversation being held. Two voices, like my dream. Bile rises in the bottom of my throat, and my lungs seem to cease functioning. Trying to focus on the voices, I don't really hear the words. One is definitely Eric's, which almost instantly relaxes me. When I realise I've calmed down without even setting my eyes on him, I find that I'm on edge again. How can I let one person have this much affect on him?  
The other voice is Four's, I suddenly notice. Stepping closer to the opening at the end of the hall, I hover just around the corner, so they can't see me.  
'.. It's looking like this was a premeditated attack.'  
'Not a suicide?'  
'No.'  
Eric whistles low, cursing under his breath. One word cuts into my brain like pieces of broken glass; _suicide._  
Who the hell.. Has someone died? My thoughts go to Molly, firstly, because of the accident, and her terrible state. But no, she wasn't even awake, as far as I was aware. If she were to have passed, someone would have pulled the plug on her life support and there would have been no suspicion of it being a suicide. So, it had to be another initiate. Unless it wasn't an initiate? Four and Eric are overseeing our training. If it was to do with the initiates, of course Four would have been obligated to inform Eric immediately. With a dry mouth and erratic pulse, I see the names flashing across my mind like neon signs. Jay. Jess. Charlie. Peter.  
The ones I care about the most, the ones I don't want to be in Dauntless without. I inhale sharply and stride into the adjoined rooms, seeing Four, broad shoulders slumped, hands curled into loose fists. Eric has dragged on a black vest and a pair of jeans, hanging low on his hips without a belt. I have to tear my eyes away from the sliver of golden skin peeking out between the gap in fabrics. I can't believe that I can think of him like that after hearing what I just have. Four glances at me, eyes narrowing. He knows I stayed the night, I think to myself. I know he knows, because there's not even the barest hint of surprise on his features when he greets me wearily. Eric turns on his heels, and I look between both men. 'What's happened?' I ask, clearing my throat after hearing how croaky it is.  
Four goes to answer but Eric halts him, as though he already knows what Four was going to say. 'One of the initiates was found at the bottom of the chasm this morning.'  
A tangle of dizziness and nausea folds itself up and settles in my throat. I swallow hard, almost feeling the lump at the top of my oesophagus. So it was one of us.  
'Who?' My voice sounds steadier than I feel, and I am proud of that. I feel like laughing all of a sudden. I came to Dauntless for the freedom to be myself, and yet here I am, hiding away once again. Maybe there's no place in existence, where you can truly be who you are.  
After a few moments pass in heavy silence, I repeat the question, louder.  
Eric sighs, and Four twitches, as though he's trying to decide whether or not he should move.  
'It was Jess, Alex.' He finally says, and Eric shoots a fierce glare in the young trainers direction. The words hit me square in the chest, with a blunt force that knocks the breath from me like I've been kicked.  
I'm distantly aware of Eric asking if I'm okay, but I can't form a coherent thought, let alone a sentence.  
Before I can control myself, I'm out the door of the apartment, sprinting as fast as I can towards the pit. I can hear the commotion growing louder, two words beating in my brain with every beat of my pulse. _not true not true not true not true.._ Taking the stone stairs two at a time, I twist my ankle as I hit the bottom.  
I take no notice of the sharp pain, hobbling across the the floor barefoot. Shoving people aside with relative ease, most not expecting to be pushed to the side, I hear a piercing scream penetrating the air, an inhuman sound of complete and utter agony. I freeze, momentarily thinking it was me who I had made that forsaken noise. But a crumpled body by the edge of the Chasm catches my attention, and I realise who it was. Charlie. Oh, fuck. Charlie!  
This time I do scream, because she turns her head to look for me, scanning the crowd with tear filled eyes. Her vision must be blurred, but she see's me coming towards her.  
A black body bag is being zipped up, the whooshing noise chafing my senses like sandpaper. An arm wraps around my waist, and with my injured foot and state of shock I cannot find it in me to struggle. _Like the dream, you're weak, a child, a scared, little girl, Lexie.._. That nasty, taunting voice snakes through my eardrums, barely more than a hush. I still hear it clearly, over the loud buzz of chattering and whispers of the crowd of black.  
Two tall, lean people, dressed in blue - Erudite, I assume - lift the bag, one at the head, one at the feet, and begin to carry it away. Her away. Carry Jess away. My stomach hurts. The muscles of my abdomen clench and strain, but I cannot throw up because I can't remember when I last ate. Jay drags me away from the fray, Four and Six taking a hysterical Charlie with them towards medical.  
Eric finds us both before we can escape, tugging me from Jay's hold, his hands cupping my face. 'Alex. Are you okay?' I still can't think straight. Jess isn't dead. Of course she isn't. She can't be. People don't just die.  
_But they do,_ whispers The Voice, _you know that better than anyone._. Again, my stomach flips, sweet, thick bile filling my mouth. I become aware of the fact that the crowd's attention has turned from the chasm, and is now focused on me and Eric. I'm wearing his shirt and boxers, and he is touching me so intimately, a strange gesture for the hard hearted Leader. It has to be obvious the tee shirt is his, it's far too large on my body. I slide away from him, shaking my head. Max appears from the mouth of one of the many corridors adorning the walls of the Pit. 'Eric.' He calls authoritatively, calm, controlled, voice taut as a wire. I nod at Eric. I understand. He has to go and do whatever it is Leaders must when something like this happens. Jay takes my arm and this time we get away uninterrupted. I notice Peter, standing alone, on the periphery of the blob of Dauntless members and initiates. His eyes flash with an emotion I can't pin down, disappearing almost as soon as it lights up. I continue walking, not ready to entertain the thought that it could have been him - Molly's friend, I remember - that could have done this. As revenge for Molly. But he didn't care about Molly. Or did he? Maybe he's like me, talented at hiding away his true emotions for the purpose of keeping up appearances. I don't know. I don't know. I'm following Jay's lead blindly, my mind frazzled from the events of the past three days. Last night, I had fallen asleep hoping to get everything back on track again, and then.. And then this. Oh, God. I don't want to think anymore. I don't want to _feel_ anymore. Jay brings us to the training room, and I know he is feeling the same. We don't fight each other, but beat punching bags, shoot guns, throw knives until we become numb to our actions. Until we become lost in the rhythm of load, cock, trigger, repeat, arm back, forward, twisting the wrist, sending the knives sailing through the air. We become the movements, simple movements, every few seconds, consciousness fading into the ether, blurring out the pain, confusion, and grief, at least for the moment.  
*******************************************  
My hair seems stupid, now. Not the cut, but the colour. Ridiculously bright, too bright to suit my mood. It sticks up at awkward angles from sleep and then training, and my face is pale and drawn and my eyes are swimming with darkness. I don't look at my reflection for too long, for fear of getting lost. I've only just had a shower, but I decided to forego washing my hair. Dressing in my own clothes, loose tracksuit bottoms and a thick hoodie, pulled up over my head, I walk down to the salon, searching for Steven. He spots me almost immediately, and thankfully, he's free. 'Sit down, sit down..' He pulls the hood down and tsk's at the state of my bedraggled head. 'God, Alex, I only did this yesterday!' He chides, setting up his tools. I lean my cheek against my hand, sighing. 'I know.' He looks at me, and suddenly squeezes my shoulder. 'I heard about the initiate. Did you know her?'  
Ignoring the twisting pain in my heart, I shake my head. Then nod. 'Sort of. I did. But she wouldn't talk to anyone after the whole Molly thing.' He nods, confirming that he knew about that, too. 'I don't know. I don't wanna talk about it.'  
'I suppose you don't want to explain why Eric was trying to comfort you in front of everyone this morning, either.' It's a question phrased like a sentence. I shake my head. I'm sick of talking, I'm sick of everything.  
Choosing the blackest hair dye on the shelf, Steven works in silence as he brushes the thick paste across my scalp. I lose myself in the heavy music playing across the speakers. I'm a little surprised that places like this are even open. When Joey died, even though he was an Erudite, the inter faction community shut down their business on the day of the funeral, as a show of respect. Then again, this isn't home. This is dauntless. Death is probably viewed as something brave and honourable here, no matter how it happened. Especially murder. Probably thought of as exciting, I think bitterly. I shouldn't be thinking this way about my faction. Because it is your faction, I remind myself firmly. This is home now, not interfaction. I haven't heard much about what will happen next, whether we'll be given permission to leave the compound for the funeral or what. Something tells me that we won't be. I'm not sure what's going on inside of my head right now. I feel numb, emptied of all emotion. My eyes are blank, reflected back in the mirror like glass bottles. Shiny, but hollow. I came to Dauntless to move on from the past. All that's happened so far, is history repeating itself.  
This cannot be good.


	18. Just Let This Moment Linger

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The first song Four sings is something I made up myself, the one Alex sings is an old Irish folk song names Grace, it is beautiful, painful and bittersweet and based on true events. I'd recommend looking up the history of it and listen to it in YouTube. Title from the song above. (Grace)

I can't bring myself to care that I have not spoken to anyone in two days straight. The final part of stage one is tomorrow and I have done nothing but run in the mornings, train and eat during the day, train in the evening and well into the night. By the time I return the other initiates are well out of it, wandering through the state of dreaming.

It hasn't been an easy forty eight hours. Unsurprisingly, Jess' funeral was family only, upsetting Charlie even more and pushing me further away from my friends. Jay keeps trying to interact like things are normal, but his voice shakes around the words and the red rims of his eyes make me feel physically ill, so I stay away and find a release in any form that is not crying. Charlie has lost all of her fights, and Peter nearly crushed her skull yesterday. Not very long ago I would have hung him over the Chasm, like Eric did to Mark at the beginning of initiation. Now, I keep my head down, and do my best to focus on strength and strategy and stamina. 

Eric. The name brings ghosts of soft kisses with a bite beneath the surface to rest against my skin. I miss his arms and the smell of his cinnamon shampoo and the sturdiness of his chest when all else is crumpling like sodden paper. But I cannot let myself run to the safety of his embrace when I know that, eventually, he will be gone, like everyone else I have ever cared for. Jess is gone and Michael left a long time ago with not even so much as a goodbye. Charlie is so caught up in her grief that she cannot see past the black haze of pain and loss and now Jay has grown sick of my self caused isolation. Eric is the only person who has respected my wish for space, giving me small glances and quick nods to express his concern, to let me know that he is here for me whenever I need him. 

I've needed him since those awful words left Fours mouth in Eric's apartment, but at the same time, I can't need him. I won't let myself. I cannot be weak anymore. I cannot let the voice in my head be right. 

The nightmare I had just before I woke up the day of Jess' death haunts me still. I can't seem to shake that the sound of that sneering voice whispering _'Lexie'_ in my ear, nor can I stop feeling the icy skin pressing against my mouth, hard enough to bruise. I check the time on the wall, the orange digits glowing fluorescent in the dark, casting shadows along the deserted passageway between the training room and the Pit. My legs dangle like a rag dolls over the ledge, teasing the steep drop below. I hear the water crashing like thunder cracking against the sharp rocks, turbulent, troubled. The rocky waves whisper to me, the walls seeming to breathe in the stillness of the night. Like this place holds secrets never to be told, for the ones that created them lost their tongues in the fall. I feel as though the water is trying to tell me something, which is ridiculous and insane and possibly a warning sign that I should get some sleep. I've had maybe four hours in the past two days, at the most. Everything has been rushing past in a blur of numbness and distorted voices. Fists flying and bones snapping beneath frail skin. I shudder. We're all so vulnerable, and perhaps the Dauntless are the most foolish of all others. We flirt with death on a daily basis, taking something as simple as getting on and off a train and transforming it into something life threatening and dangerous. We crave the sensation of crossing the line without ever tripping completely, the fear and the pain and the rush of adrenaline that takes charge over our limbs as the realisation sets in; we are not dead - we are alive, despite the odds. 

It is four thirty. Stage one ends in just over twelve hours. The thought does not affect me in any way. None of this seems real anymore. I stretch out my arm, feeling the crack of my joints as they pop with the motion. Staring at my hand hovering in the air, it's like seeing something you know is there, but you feel like it's not. Like knowing something is real, but there's still that gnawing piece of doubt that sets you on the edge. I'm exhausted. Mentally and physically. 

A soft tune travels from the opposite corridor adjoined to the one I've travelled almost every day since my arrival. The training room is situated down the left in the split in the wall, and I don't know what lies in the murky shadows hovering along the mouth of the second opening. Pushing myself up, I creep down along the floor, barefoot. My feet have grown leathered and calloused from all my time spent without shoes, and the cool, hard cement does not bother me anymore. I savour the feeling of hitting the ground bare skinned with each step. It's a small reminder that I am actually here, I am actually experiencing this, it is not a dream, my life has continued despite the detachment I have become accustomed to accompanying me wherever I go. 

I don't recognise the melody that only grows louder, a flawed voice breaking at the high notes, fading into nothing at the lows. Stepping into a dimly lit room, I see Four, his back to me, still fully dressed in his instructor clothes. He is playing a piano, the keys like perfect rows of ivory teeth strung along a wooden gum. Each press of his finger to the instrument draws a painful, bittersweet note that melts seamlessly into the next and creates the most beautiful song I have ever heard. The words that accompany are no less impressive. 

_I thought I heard you say I love you_  
But quietly as if  
You were afraid that the wrong person would hear,  
Somewhere an old man mourns for the love he never chased  
And there's a mother with no baby in her arms to stop the tears.. 

The music stops without warning and Four sighs defeatedly, closing the lid over the piano with a gentle thud. He buries his face into his upturned palms and groans against the skin.  
'I never thought Dauntless would have a music room.' I say, hoarsely, vocal chords forgotten how to work due to their recent lack of use. 

Four doesn't speak, nor does he move an inch from his position on the small, black stool. The room is curved at the corners, and absolutely tiny, but much warmer than the other parts of the compound I have visited at night. A small heater is pumping waves of warm air out, various instruments scattered around the place. Guitars and flutes and drums made of calf skin stretched tight scruff the bones of old trees, the tarnished piano sitting proudly by the far wall. I find myself drawn to my first love with an almost irresistible pull - the glossy, oak, six stringed instrument calling my name with deep desire wound within its pleas. I swallow thickly, suddenly itching to take it up, cradle the curved body against my torso, run my fingertips along the long, slim neck. Press the strings into my flesh and feel the burn from metal and nylon causing white hot friction, leaving blisters and broken nails and ripped skin leaking blood.

I turn my head away from the beautiful temptress, knowing that I need to ask Four an important question. 'You said that Jess was murdered, Four. I heard you talking to Eric about it.' His shoulders slump almost imperceptibly, hands dropping to his knees as he spins to face me. His eyes are tired and filled with despair and sadness. 'Is there no way of figuring out who did it?'

There is pity in the glance that is sent my way and for all that I have been feeling next to nothing recently I am suddenly ready to scream in his face, throttle him to the point where he passes out, because pity is the one thing I can't take. I don't need anyone to feel sorry for me, never have and never will.  
'Max has ruled it as a suicide. We have no evidence of it being foul play, there is nothing suspicious surrounding the incident, and considering the circumstances..' He frowns, deep creases burrowing into his forehead, thick eyebrows knitted together at the bridge of his nose. 

The circumstances. As in the fact that Jess was consumed by the guilt caused by her fight with Molly. It led to Molly being hospitalised with possible brain damage. Of course there would be a suitable cover up for something like this. I doubt the leaders want a scandal roaming around, especially with Erudite and their sudden decision to start writing articles about Abnegation and Candor and their supposed 'useless roles in our society.' Jeanine Matthews has caused enough trouble there without dragging Dauntless into the spotlight. It doesn't make it fair, though. It doesn't make it right. 

'So you're not going to do anything?' I know the answer and Four is aware of this, and so he does not speak. He casts an arm out and points to the various musical instruments surrounding us. 'You know how to play?'  
I shrug and matter that I used to, and despite my hesitation the ex Abnegation boy coaxes a short song out of me. It is one my mother used to sing when I was younger, a sad tale of a woman named Grace, and a man who's love is cruelly pulled from their grip,one of the few pieces of our history that survived the last great world war. 

_now as the dawn is breaking, my heart is breaking too, as I walk out on this May morn, my thoughts will be of you.._ when I finish Four takes one of my hands and folds it between both of us. A gesture of comfort, perhaps, a sign of solidarity.  
He leaves with words of advice, something wise and true and needed.  
'There's nothing you can do about what has happened, Alex. You can't change it. You just have to keep moving forward, no matter how hard it is. Just keep moving.' 

He's right. As awful as it sounds I cannot let Jess hold me back from beyond the grave. To progress with my life I must let go of her, and accept that she is not coming back. The feelings of acceptance are bitter as I swallow the truth but I hold it down, and promise to keep moving forward. A faint laugh echoes in my mind, a quick glimpse of golden hair swishes across my vision, a smudge of sapphire blue fades away in the distant. I say goodbye to her on my own, and know that it is fitting, because she died alone, with no one to offer comfort. So I must bid farewell in my own company, the last thing I must give her, the last thing I can. We are not alone in our loneliness if we're both on our own. With a hollow heart and heavy bones I creep back to the dormitory, determined to find a way to exorcise her ghost from my life. 

This is Dauntless. Cruel and ruthless and completely emotionless. I can deal with this. I can be that, that person, cold and distant. I always was, really. I close my eyes and press my hand to my ribs, placing it right over the spot where my heart is breaking inside of my chest, ignoring how it hurts, ignoring how it splinters apart like the promise I made when Jess and I first met.  
_I'll never let you fall. I promise.._

One last thought creeps into my mind in the moment between sleep and awake, where I am drifting piece by piece into the ether and yet parts of myself are still tethered to the physical realm.  
I'm just like my Erudite brother, selfish, prideful, a carbon copy. I am wired the same way Michael is. Maybe it's time to just accept that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry that this took so long. It's a short update, sorry again. I have had a crazy week, with my French speaking exam last week, the most mental weekend ever just passed, I have my Irish speaking exam this week too and my music performance exam. Not to mention studying and planning grad and sorting out open days for college, and running training I've been crazy busy. I can't give you a time frame for the next update but please just be patient and I will try and get up it as quickly as possible! Much love to all who are taking the time to read this. I hope you are enjoying it and that it was worth the wait :)


	19. Dancing On The Edge

The final day of stage one dawns bright and early, at least above ground. The open windows in the ceiling of the training room allow the rays of the gentle morning sun to stream in, casting a golden glow around the cavernous walls. I stand alone, tall, head held high. Eric and Four are muttering in the corner of the room, and I ignore the way their eyes keep drifting my way. I keep my gaze fixed to the padded mat I will soon step up onto for the final time as an initiate. Sneaking a glance to the wall, I check my ranking again. Eight. I moved up. I don't give myself the chance to savour any sense of pride. The fights are scratched atop the slate board fixed next to the scorings, a radical contrast between technology and old age times. My name is next to Peters, and he smirks my way before striding across the floor, oozing confidence. Nudging my elbow he leans down to whisper in my ear. 'I love you and all, Lex, but I'm gonna crush you.' The words are a promise, one he will not be able to keep. I cannot allow that. I don't reply, don't react, and eventually he leaves me be. Eric claps his hands together, quelling the low chatter of nervous initiates. There is no messing around, and the first fight is called. Drew vs Larsen. 

A mismatched fight if there ever was one, really. It begins and Drew lands a punch within two seconds, knocking Larsen to the ground and before a minute is up, the smaller boy is unconscious. Eric nods and Four notes something down on a sleek black tablet, eyes flickering from the screen to the mat every so often. Charlie fights Zed, and Zed wins - but Charlie seems to have found her spirit, for the moment. She does her best and the fight is longer, lasting about fifteen minutes before she is unable to continue. Jay goes up against Mark, and is victorious. I lean back on the cinder block wall, shivering lightly as the cool plaster presses against the skin not covered by my black vest top. Every so often I feel Eric's gaze burning into the side of my face, and I ignore with fierce determination. My feet feel tethered to the ground when I am called out, and I'm slightly surprised to find that I can lift them as I walk. Peter winks, cocky grin digging deep dimples into his rosy cheeks. His muscles roll beneath his tanned skin, curly hair wild and unbrushed. When the whistle blows, he darts forward, faking an uppercut before swinging his leg up. I know his strategy enough by now, and I duck and jump with ease, twisting to bring my body behind his. He turns with a grunt and comes for me again, fists flying towards opposite spots on my body. I take his wrists as prisoners, my fingers forming tight shackles. I twist his arms over and up above his head, directing a kick to the vulnerable place behind his knee. It buckles, but he manages to bring the opposite ankle to my inner thigh, knocking me off kilter. When my grip is loosened he wriggles free, and pain explodes in the middle of my face as his knuckles collide with my nose. The second hit elicits a sickening crack and a sharp, cutting pain piercing through the skin. Gritting my teeth, I aim for his belly, and get him in the throat when he drops his arms to defend himself. He stumbles and I knock his feet out from beneath him, but he grabs my trousers and yanks me down beside him. A harsh blow to my stomach winds me, sending all oxygen in my body straight back up my throat without warning, causing me to choke in panic. He straddles my hips and pins my hands with one of his his feet keeping my legs anchored to the ground. The ceiling splits in half as he lands another hit to my face, my lip tearing, cheeks bruising under the weight of his attack. I manage to stay conscious and then Eric is calling time.  
'I'm not watching any more of this, it's pathetic.' He grunts and I hear the poison in his tone. I don't know who it's directed at - maybe both of us - but when Peter lifts himself and I stumble to my feet I send a glare his way. 'No.' I reply thickly, wiping slick blood from my mouth with the back of my hand. I am careful to avoid jarring what I think may be a broken nose. Eric tilts his head.  
'Fight until one of us can no longer continue, right? I'm still standing. I'm not finished.'  
Peter raises his eyebrow and looks to me. 'Are you sure?' He asks quietly, and without replying I launch myself towards the tall Candor, body slamming him to the ground and ramming my knee between his legs. He cries out with the pain and then coughs and splutters due to the pressure I place on his throat with my elbow. His palm pushes my head back, fingers hooking under my jaw and pressing painfully against the tender skin. I fall back off him and kneel forward almost immediately. His foot catches my ribs, igniting fire inside my chest. I hiss between clenched teeth, tasting blood and sweat, salt and rusted metal. I roll over, ignoring the loud protest from my bruised bones. My own foot crashes to his cheek, sending him toppling over. We grapple on the floor, my arms becoming sore and the muscles fatigued. I see the glint in his eyes growing simmer with tiredness, and know he is approaching his limit. This needs to end. I need to finish this.  
Apparently, he thinks the same, and in perfect synchronisation we bring our heads toward one another, skulls cracking as our foreheads meet with impossible force on each side. The sunlight shatters into a million tiny pieces and float in circles, like visible atoms in the air. Deep darkness seeps into the edge of my vision, and whispers fade into nothing as my eyes slide shut, and I fall away into the void. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
The bruise on my forehead is ugly, blossoming like a wildflower in the middle of the summer. Yellows and greens melt together just above the bridge of my nose, my left eyebrow swollen and almost blue in colour. My lip has stopped bleeding, and Bee had to sew it up with a few tiny stitches to get it to do so. A grey-purple shadow ghosts along my right cheekbone, and my ribs.. Well, let's just say I'm lucky they're not broken. A deep purple bruise has developed around the area, tender and painful. I cannot bend over, I can't drop my head at all, as my vision swims and fuzzes over. The pain has been dulled by effective meds and I have already discussed the possibility of me going out tonight - to celebrate the end of stage one. Rankings will be up in ten minutes, and I am stuck in medical, on my own. Trapped in a small room, sparkling clean, devastatingly white and dazzling. A strange sight for Dauntless. The bed I've been resting in since the fight is too warm around my aching limbs. I struggle to shove the duvet down to my waist without irritating my injuries further, and the cool air is sweet on my heated skin. The bed curves upwards from the headboard, so I can sit up and support my back. I'm sick of lying down. I'm sick of being stuck here. I'm waiting for Eric to come up and inform me of my results - for anyone to come up and tell me whether I won or lost today. Both myself and Peter fainted. Well. Fainted isn't the right word. We knocked each other out with a simultaneous head butt, so I don't know how the winner will be determined. Unless it was a tie. I wouldn't really mind that so much - better than full on losing. Michael used to say tying score was worse than failing in something, because it meant you were just as average as your opponent. Failure paves the way for success. Success paves the way for pride. 

He used to say that, too. My head buzzes and aches, like my brain has swollen inside my skull and is now pushing against the walls with intense pressure. I bring my thumb to my temples, brushing them around in gentle circles. It doesn't help. I sigh and close my eyes. That doesn't help, either. I keep seeing Jess, long hair flickering behind my eyelids, her laugh echoing through my ears. I hear heavy footsteps coming down the hall, muffled. The door opens with a soft click and closes with the same sound. Eric stares at me with an unreadable expression.  
'Rankings are up.'  
I nod slowly. 'Who won? Me or Peter?'  
'You tied. You knocked each other out.'  
'Fair enough.' 

Silence descends, tense and uncomfortable. Eric's posture is too straight, too still, like he doesn't want to be here. Maybe he doesn't. I guess that makes two of us then. 

'Do you want to know your rank?'  
Without moving at all I mouth the word yes, and he replies with a number.  
'Third.'

The word means nothing. I don't feel proud, can't find any part of me which can feel happiness, or even relief to have passed in the top three. 'Okay.'  
He chews his lip and turns to leave.  
It is the first time we have spoken since Jess. It's horrible. 

'Who killed Jess?'  
The words seem to echo loudly around the room, and he freezes with his hand on the doorknob. I see the curve of his spine tightening almost imperceptibly. He doesn't look back when he answers.  
'It was a suicide.' 

I want to laugh at the emptiness in his voice. They are flat and cold and rehearsed, like he's following a script. Max's script. He leaves without a farewell, as people often do.  
I stare at the closed door for a long time after he is gone. Almost seeing the air settle back around the spot he stood, wondering what is going through his head at the moment. I don't care what he says. What Four or Max says. I know that there is more to Jess' death than what we are being told. If it is the last thing I do, I will find out. 

********************************************  
I don't go out to celebrate the end of stage one. As it turns out, no one else does either. We're all in various states of injury, and there is a resting period in the night before our day off, where half the initiates are confined to the hospital for precautionary methods. Whatever meds Bee has been feeding me are clearly Erudite borne. By this morning, the swelling around my forehead and eyebrow has gone down almost completely. The stitches keeping my lip intact have dissolved and there is nothing but a tiny indent to mark the incident. I am allowed to leave at half six, and it is a relief to escape the four walls of the hospital room. It is too calm in there, too quiet and too pure. It made me feel disconnected from the rest of Dauntless.  
There is a party being held in the Pit. Waves of bass shake the floor beneath my feet, sending deep tremors right into my bones. I slip down a deserted corridor, dark and cool, and find the dorms empty. It is a relief I allow myself to savour. Showering, and dressing in black jeans, a black top and a charcoal zip up hoody, I make my way back to the heart of Dauntless. The crowd is swaying and swimming to the music, like waves of thick black ink crashing against one another.  
I cast an eye up to the security room, knowing that there is cams all over this place. 

Climbing the stairs, I keep to the shadows, creeping slowly along the floor until I find the door, inching it open. I exhale slowly as I find it emptied. This room is quiet aside from the low hum of computers. Behind me, the party rages on. 

I sit at a computer, noting how the leather chair still holds warmth from its previous occupant. I click through various files, all time stamped, until I find the right one.  
The footage is grainy, but I can just about see Jess hovering along the edge of the Chasm. My breath hitches as she wobbles precariously, but I relax cautiously when she regains her balance. I wring my hands together and lean my elbows on the table, resting my chin in the V between my intertwined fingers. I scan each and every corner of the dimly lit screen, looking out for something, for anything that could be indicative of some sinister force pulling strings behind the scenes. 

Nothing happens for a few moments, so I fast forward the video, until a second figure enters the scene. I rewind a little, watching someone dressed all in black, with a hood pulled up over their head. I can't see the person, nor is there sound or voice recognition software installed in the Pits outdated security. I watch the stranger interact with Jess, who attempts to push past the person but is consistently pulled back and held in place. The second figure appears agitated, hands jerking all over the place as they yell - at least, that's what I assume they're doing. Jess tries to move past again and when the hooded person stops her, there's a split second of painful clarity on the screen in front of me. I can Jess' features, mouth opened, loose hair fanning out behind her like a useless cape. She reaches for Hoodie but whoever they are, clearly don't have fast reflexes. They jump towards the edge and try to pull her back up, but the actions are a fraction of a second too late. Jess has already disappeared from view. Sweet, sickly saliva trickles into my mouth, a sure sign of incoming vomit. I hold it back for the moment, hands gripping the edge of the table for life. Hoodie seems to panic for a moment, before turning and running back in the direction from where they came. I wait another while, but there is nothing more to be shown. My stomach flips like a gymnast, and I wrench myself from the chair and fly across the room to the empty trash can. I spill my guts, heaving and heaving until there is nothing left in my belly to throw up. The muscles clench and spasm in vain, a dull ache settling from the effort of puking. I shiver, wincing at the bitter taste in my mouth. The remaining acid burns my throat and refuses to budge, sliding slowly back down like melted fudge, too thick to move any faster. The door opens without warning, light spilling from the gap between the two walls. 

Eric frowns at me. 'Alex? What's wrong?' I stand shakily, wiping my lips roughly with the back of my hand. 'I, uh. I didn't feel well, and so I just ran through the first door I got to.' I mumble, staring at the floor. I sense him moving closer and I want to run.  
His hand comes to rest around my upper arm, loose but firm and unmistakably there. 'Did you eat something funny?' He asks gruffly, trying to hide the concern in his tone. I almost smile, nearly amused as I wonder why we go through life pretending not to feel the things we do. I do it myself, and yet I still don't quite understand why. I shrug. 'Probably.'  
Stepping to the side, I slip past him and head for the Pit, staring down at the throng moving like waves below. There is a beer bottle in the hand of almost everyone, some even have two, one in each. I realise Eric is holding a half full glass bottle of the alcohol, as he approaches from behind. I reach for the drink silently, and he hesitates momentarily. 'Maybe that's not such a good idea. You just puked.'  
I roll my eyes, knowing he's right and also knowing that I don't care. 'I'll go get someone else to give me some then. Whatever.'  
Before I have the chance to move away, he's handing the bottle to me with a poorly disguised frown. I tip the opening against my lips, downing the sour liquid in one swift gulp. 'Slow down.' He orders authoritatively. I smirk. 'Sure thing, Eric.'  
He inhales sharply, shoulders tensing. 'I'm serious, Alex. You don't need to be hungover in the morning, it's visiting day.' 

His words spark up a sharp flare of irritation and I push at his chest ineffectively. Glaring fiercely at him, I snarl out a reply. 'You do not know what I need.' I turn on my heels and stalk off, ignoring his voice calling my name out, asking me to come back. In the Pit, I join the crowds of dancing partygoers, a tall girl with pastel blue hair and four facial piercings - one above her eyebrow, another along the bridge of her nose, one in her septum, the other glinting every time she opens her mouth and her tongue peeks out - hands me a bottle and invites me to dance with her. I wonder vaguely if she's flirting, and as the night wears on and my blood becomes more vodka than anything else I realise that yes, yes she is. Her hands ghost around my hips, curving along the slope of my neck. She intertwines our fingers and leads me out into one of Dauntless' many corridors, pressing me against the wall and closing the gap between our mouths without hesitation. I reciprocate, pulling gently on her hair. 

She giggles against my lips. 'You're a good kisser,' she whispers, nudging our noses together. I smile and graze my teeth lightly against her collarbone. She moans and the noise is like a shot of heroin directly into my bloodstream. Instantly, I'm craving more. Sucking a bruise into the tender skin at the point where her neck meets her shoulder, she grips my waist tightly. 

'And just what is going on here?' A thick growl catches us both by surprise, but neither of us move from our tangled embrace against the wall. Eric glares daggers at the girl, and she shrinks into me a little. I tighten my arms protectively against her curvy form.  
'Kayleigh. You know better than to fraternise with initiates.' She pouts adorably, kiss swollen lips turning down at the corners. 'I wasn't making her do anything she didn't want to.'  
'That's not the point. She's an initiate. Get out of here. If I ever catch you doing anything like this again, I'm putting you on bowl duty in the infirmary.' She sighs exasperatedly, but sends me a covert wink and whispers 'We'll talk tomorrow,' in my ear, brushing her palm against my forearm before she saunters back to the party, still raging. I watch her leave with a dull ache of longing, her hips swaying in time to the beat of the song playing loudly.

When she has disappeared from view, I cross my arms, and turn to Eric, scowling.  
'Why the fuck have you made it your life's mission to ruin mine?'


	20. Authors Note

Sorry the lack of updates - I have been so busy, I've just been exhausted and unable to find the energy to write. With school, exams, grad, problems with grad, friends, family and college applications it's been crazy. I have the weekend, Monday & Tuesday off, and I really need the time to study. However, I have half of the next chapter written & edited, so I hope to have it up by tomorrow night. Sorry again for the wait!


	21. Update.

I am sorry to announce that I am going to have to officially place this fic on temporary hiatus. I have too much going on over the next few weeks, exams to revise for, graduation, working on my photography portfolio, college interviews, a wedding, a christening, then the actual exams. 

I promise that as soon as the exams are over I will get straight back to writing. 

Again, so sorry, but these things must come first. Thank you to everyone who has been reading this, I hope it's good enough for you all to come back when I begin again.


	22. These Wounds Won't Heal

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This has been edited slightly; 
> 
> Instead of Stage 2 being the next day(the chapter after this one) it's visitation day as I just realized I haven't done visitation yet!

Eric rolls his eyes and glares at me. 'I'm not trying to ruin your life. I'm trying to stop you hooking up with a stranger, while drunk, pretending that you're perfectly fine, when we both know you're not.'  
Rage sparks up again and my hands curl into tight fists. ' I am fine. Why wouldn't I be? I got a good rank, I'm doing well.' 

'You're grieving, Alex.' I scoff, ignoring the sudden wave of pain that threatens to crash over me. I walk down the hall, pushing past him, or at least attempting to.  
His large hand grips my shoulder, the heat from his palm burning harshly against my bare skin. 'Where are you going?'  
Wriggling away, I mutter, 'To get another drink.' Eric grabs both my shoulders and refuses to let me move. 'Get off!'

'No. You're drunk.'  
'No shit.'  
He sighs, exasperated. 'I'm taking you back to the dorms.'  
'You are in your bollocks.'  
'You need sleep. You have visitation day tomorrow, you're gonna have one hell of a hangover, and you'll get no sympathy from me.' 

'I don't want anyone's sympathy.' I sneer, mouth twisting around the last word, spitting it out with disgust. I don't need sympathy or pity or looking after, I'm fine, I'm okay, and people just need to leave me the fuck alone.

Eric grits his teeth and I see a muscle jumping in his jaw. 'Your friend died, Alex.' He reminds me harshly. I wince and cast my gaze to the floor. His grip loosens and he sighs again. 'Your friend died.' He repeats, in a gentler tone. Closing my eyes, I inhale sharply, feeling the walls closing in and spinning in circles around me. 'I know.'  
'It's okay to be hurting at a time like this. You need to grieve, you need to let yourself grieve.' 

Steadying myself, I lift my head to meet his eyes, ready to shoot back a snappy reply. But the concern filtering through his stormy-blue iris' takes me my surprise, and words desert me. 

'Let me take you back, to my flat at least. You can sleep this off, in peace.' 

I laugh, shakily. 'Three nights in your place? People will start talking.'  
'People do little else.' He counters, and there's a firmness to his voice that lets me know there's no point in arguing. 

'Fine. But- what the fuck!' My legs are knocked from beneath me, and there's a fraction of a second where my heart flies to my throat as the sensation of falling consumes me. Then, I'm being pulled against a thick chest, held securely in tanned arms. 'You're not walking, I can't believe you're even still standing.' He begins to move, carefully, as though afraid of jarring me in his arms. 'M' not that bad.' I protest quietly, leaning my cheek against the soft black tee shirt he's wearing. He says nothing.

At his flat, he gives me a fresh shirt, and lets me down so that I can change. 

'Why did you dye your hair back?' He asks when I return to the kitchen, staggering just a little. I lean against the wall and trace random patterns across the cool, white plaster. 'Dunno. Got bored?' Eric just shakes his head, and hands me a glass of water. 'Drink.' he orders. I take a sip, meeting his eyes defiantly. 'All of it.' His voice is stern, and my head is swimming with vodka and confusion and too many emotions to allow me to come up with a decent retort. I finish it off, and his hands linger on mine when he lifts the glass away. 'Go to bed.' He murmurs. 'I can take the couch.' He turns his back on me, to clean up before he heads to sleep. 

'You don't have to. Sleep on the couch, I mean.' I keep my eyes fixed to the floor so that I don't have to see the expression on his face. I curl up into a ball beneath the dark, soft duvet, the room spinning every time I close my eyes. The bed rocks beneath me, causing the alcohol in my stomach to swirl and slosh inside of me sickeningly. 'This bed is too big for one person,' I think miserably. Fifteen minutes later, when I'm just beginning to drift off, the mattress dips, and a warm weight settles down next to me. Automatically, almost on reflex, I roll closer and Eric pulls me in with an arm around my waist. Resting my head on his chest, I feel the dizziness dying down, making me feel a little steadier. Through a yawn, I speak. 'How do you manage to do that?' The words are slurred and barely recognizable, but he seems to understand. 'Do what?'  
'Make me feel safe. Like I'm solid ground, even when everything's falling apart.' My voice lowers gradually, breaking on the last word, as I think of Jess. A thousand knives prick at my heart, a fist of spikes clenching around it. 'You're always safe with me.' Eric tells me, gruffly. It's the last thing to breach the silence, as his grip tightens on me, and we both fall into a dreamless, peaceful sleep.


	23. We Can't Pretend Anymore

I cannot believe I let myself get that drunk last night. I'm certainly paying for it this morning; my head feels like it's been stuffed with cotton wool and repeatedly bashed against a brick wall. There's a hickey nestled beneath my collarbone, a strange purple-pink color that stands out proudly against my pale skin. 

I sneaked out of Eric's apartment this morning, before he woke. He's quite the heavy sleeper, really. I don't know why I find that so surprising. Everyone else was still asleep when I got back to the dorms. I had to stifle my laughter when I caught sight of Peter in the bathroom. He was slumped against the wall, half naked, the fly on his jeans undone as he lay, face planted onto the tiles. I showered, washing away the sweat and grime from my skin, and that awful scent of disinfectant that lingered on my skin from my short hospital stay.  
Now, I'm standing at the place where Eric gave me his beer last night, watching from the outside once again. It is visitation day for the transfers, where all the parents and family members of those who left their homes come to see the initiates, and see how they're faring as Independents. I know my parent's won't be here- they'll know Gabriel would need to see them more than I do. Anyway, I think if I saw their faces after everything that's happened over the past few days, I'd probably crumble completely. 

Tattooed arms settle on the railing beside me; but I feel Eric's presence before I see him. 'Not going down to see mommy and daddy?' He questions, turning his head to look at me. I let out a short laugh, more like an enunciated exhale, and shake my head. 'Nah. They'll be gone to see my brother.'  
'I didn't know you had a brother.'  
'My twin.'  
'Where did he transfer to?'  
'Amity.' 

Eric swears, sounding amused. I raise an eyebrow at him, questioningly. 'You came to Dauntless, and your brother went to Amity? You must be complete polar opposites.' He snorts, and I watch the way his face softens as he comments on my family. His eyes are a little warmer, and there's a spark flickering just behind the mask he usually wears.  
'Yeah. He's quiet. I'm not.'  
Shaking his head, Eric agrees. 'You can say that again.' 

For a moment, we both just watch the happy reunions commencing in the Pit, and I laugh as Jay's father swallows and moves back from the edge of the Chasm. I can't remember much from last night; I will admit that. I just know that I stayed in Eric's place again, after kissing some random Dauntless. I can only hope that I didn't say anything too embarrassing. 

'About last night..' I start, only to be cut off as Eric clears his throat.  
'Don't mention it. Seriously, don't.' He adds, a smirk forming on his lips as I begin to protest.  
I feel my cheeks heating up. 'What did I say?' I ask, honestly terrified of what it is he's going to say.  
'Oh, nothing.' He teases, eyes fixed on me, smirk only becoming wider when I let out an annoyed moan.  
'Oh, god, was it that bad?' I beg, pouting up at him. He chuckles, the sound rumbling from deep within his chest. I have spent three nights in a row curled up against that chest.. the memory causes a sudden, surprising flood of arousal to pool low in my belly, and the blush deepens as I avert my gaze lest he realise there's more on my mind now than my drunken antics.  
'You said I make you feel safe.' He confesses, and my chest tightens, shit shit shit.  
'Oh.' Is all I can manage, hands beginning to shake around the metal railing. 

'I told you you were.'  
I frown, still looking down at the crowd. 'Huh?'  
'I said you are safe with me. Always.' He moves closer, just a little, not enough for us to be touching but enough so that I can feel the heat radiating off his bare arms. His voice has dropped lower, deep and quiet. I have trouble remembering how to breathe when his hand shifts along the rail to rest an inch away from mine.

A blonde head in the crowd pulls my attention, however; a blonde head, all too familiar, in Erudite blue, swiveling his head in all directions. Looking for something, for someone. 

Looking for me. I almost collapse there and then, but I catch myself at the last minute. Eric notices the way I tense up, my back becoming a straight, stiff line. He stills, thinking he has overstepped the mark.  
'Excuse me, for a second..' I manage to gasp out, sounding strangled. I move towards the stairs, holding myself back from sprinting down. I weave through the crowd, keeping my head down, wanting to avoid attracting unnecessary attention. 

I grab the blonde boy - no, not a boy, I realise, but a man - by the wrist, jerking him around a corner. His face drops for a moment in surprise, before it lifts again as he recognises me. 

'Alexis.' He greets, with a formal nod. Taking away my hand, I pause to try and unscramble all the words flying around in my head, furiously trying to escape. I open my mouth and hear how pronounced my breathing is, from the stress, from the annoyance, from some other emotion I don't want to entertain right now. 

'What the _fuck_ do you think you're doing here?!'


	24. Those Things You Do

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unbeta'd, unedited, hope you're all enjoying this so far!

The last time I saw my older brother, I was thirteen years old, and he was after cutting his palm and dropping his blood over the Erudite water. I spent four years, hating him, wondering why he abandoned us, wishing he'd just _talk_ to us, and now.. here he is. In the flesh. 

He's changed a lot; of course, he's grown up. His shoulder's are broader, he's taller, his hair more elegantly coiffed to the side. A pair of thin, blue-framed glasses are perched on the edge of his nose. His eyes are colder, and his entire stance is more rigid, his posture straight and tall- he exudes an air of confidence. This man is a far cry from the small, skinny, nervous wreck of a boy I used to know.

'Hello to you too, Alexis. I thought you'd appreciate my visit.' I snort in disbelief; is he being serious?  
'Four years.' Is all I say, watching his face carefully. His polite smile falters for a moment before it is hauled back into place.  
'Well, I was adjusting to a new faction, Alexis, you understand.' I shake my head, crossing my arms and glaring at him. 'No, actually, I don't.'  
He stares at me, looking confused, a little surprised. 'Alexis... I thought you'd be happy to see me.'  
I laugh, shaking my head and looking away, down the empty corridor.  
'Happy? Michael, it's been four fucking years!' He winces a little at the use of the curse word; but I don't care. 'You think I'd be happy to see some Erudite asshole who used to be my brother?'  
'We're still related.' He replies quietly, eyes closing.  
'Family isn't just blood. You choose your family- and you didn't choose us. Me. Gabe. Mom or Dad. Do you have any idea what you did to us? To them? You broke Mom's heart, Michael. You broke her damn heart. You left without even saying goodbye. And then you didn't even bother to show your face at your own visiting day!' I scowl, feeling the white-hot rage bubbling up inside.  
'I- I just.. It was too hard, to be at home.' He whispers. I want to hit him, so, so badly.  
'I always knew you were selfish, but not this selfish.' He opens his eyes again and meets mine, pleading silently.  
'What were you expecting, for me to run into your arms and say how much I missed you?' I ask, bitterly. He shakes his head. 'I did not know what to expect. I certainly didn't expect this.' 

'You're just lucky you came here and not to Gabriel. You fucked him up enough already. You don't need to crash land back into his life again, before disappearing into the ether.'  
'I did not fuck up our brother.' He says, suddenly irritated, speaking through gritted teeth.  
'My brother.' I clarify, daring him to disagree. He doesn't.  
'How did you even know where I- oh, wait. You're Erudite. You know everything.' I roll my eyes, expressing my distaste for his faction.  
Clearing his throat, he nods. 'Due to my high-ranking position within Erudite, I do have access to files and information that could be considered..sensitive.'  
'Private, you mean?' I accuse, narrowing my eyes. Who does he think he is? To poke at someone for information about me, to seek me out and act like nothing has changed, when we both know everything changed, long, long ago.  
'I – I work for Jeanine Mathews. Directly under her, actually.' 

I smirk, nastily. 'Oh, so you get to see every aspect of Erudite's finest?' The words are laced with innuendo's, and I'm not sure he quite understands.  
'Perhaps I should leave.' He murmurs, mostly to himself.  
'Yeah, I think you should.' 

He sighs, and takes off the stupid glasses that he probably doesn't even fucking need, before reaching for me. I twist his wrist, bending it to an unnatural position, relishing the shriek of pain I draw from his mouth.  
'Don't touch me.' I stand back and watch him, dropping to his knees, cradling one wrist with his free hand. He stares up at me, from beneath long, light eyelashes, betrayal and hurt crossing his face. A tiny, almost unnoticable, twinge of guilt pangs in my chest. I push it away, refusing to feel anything towards the stranger in front of me. Just because we happen to share blood, does not mean he gets to show up, out of the blue, and expect me to fall at his feet. 

He stands, shakily, smoothing down the creases in his light blue pants.  
'Well, it was.. nice, seeing you again, Alexis. Your hair – it suits you, short.' He attempts to compliment me, but the words are stiff, almost disjointed.  
'Thanks. Means so much, coming from you.' I say without blinking, watching his shoulder's slump as he turns away and disappears, just like that, once again. 

\--  
Eric corners me later that day, after I've spent most of the afternoon raging to Jay about my oldest brother. He was as shocked as I was to hear that he came to the Dauntless compound.  
Jay's headed to bed, exhausted, emotionally and physically from seeing his family. I too tried to get some shut-eye, but found that I was too restless. Michael's visit stirred up some memories that are less than easy to remember. 

I'm walking down the large, empty corridors, every so often bumping into someone I know. Thankfully, everybody seems too busy to stop and chat. Until Eric finds me, that is. 

'Where did you run off to, earlier?' He asks, curiously. 'I had some business I needed to attend to.' I mutter, avoiding his gaze. He quirks an eyebrow, and steps closer to me, guiding me up against the wall, without even touching me.  
His eyes probe mine gently, but with determination, asking a silent question  
'My estranged brother thought that it would be a good idea for him to pay me a visit day. I haven't seen, or heard from him, since his own choosing day, four years ago. '  
Eric rests both his hand on the wall beside me, one on either side of my head.  
'I'm guessing you weren't best pleased?' I shake my head, legs beginning to tremble from his proximity, his familiar scent, cinnamon and something else. Something purely Eric, and the heat he appears to give off twenty-four/seven.  
'I don't really want to talk about it.'  
He nods, sucking his bottom lip between his teeth. 

'I can think of better things to be doing with our mouths, anyway.' He smirks, eyes glinting mischievously. I don't reply; I can't think of anything smart to say back.  
I just rest my head against the hard, cinder wall and raise my own eyebrows, in a kind of, 'oh, yeah?' challenging kind of way. 

His hands curve around my shoulders, as our mouths meet, gently at first. It escalates quickly, his tongue brushing over my lips, hands running down my back to squeeze my ass tightly. I gasp, giving him what he wants; the opportunity to slip his tongue inside of my mouth. I moan, heat pooling between my legs as his tongue strokes mine, his teeth trapping my lower lip and tugging it harshly. One of his knees pushes in between my legs, his mouth moving to kiss and suck at my jawline, my neck, my collarbones. 

I writhe against him, pushing my hands beneath his shirt, feeling his smooth, hard abs, noting how he shivers when I trace his abdomen with my fingertips. I smirk into his hair when one of my thumbs brushes lightly against his nipple, causing him to growl and swear. Lifting his head, he looks at me with heavy-lidded eyes, pupil's blown wide with desire and lust. 'Fuck.' He mutters, before catching my lips again, kissing harder, like he wants to sear himself onto me.. something, I realise, I have no problem with. I flick his nipple again, rubbing the sensitive nub between my thumb and forefinger, savoring the pleasured grunts that Eric moans into my mouth. I give his neglected nipple the same treatment, before running my free hand down, and pressing it against his stiff crotch.

A sharp cough brings us both back to our senses, and to my own complete mortification, Four is standing two feet away, looking annoyed.  
His eyes are in conflict with the rest of his features, however; while his lips are pressed in a tight, thin line, his stance rigid, his gaze almost disapproving, his eyes are glinting with amusement.  
'Initiate. It's past curfew. Get back to the dorms, now.' He instructs, voice firm, not giving anything away.  
I glance at Eric, who is staring at me heatedly. I sigh, pushing away from the wall and walking towards Four. I yelp in surprise when a hand hits against my ass; it stings, but it only serves to turn me on even more. I shoot Eric a wink over my shoulder, taking in one last, long look- he's leaning on the wall with one shoulder, arms crossed over his buff chest, lower lip caught between his teeth as he stares after me, looking satisfied. 

I still can't sleep, but I find it easier to distract myself with thoughts of what might have happened in that corridor, had Four not shown up.. 

Eric has this way of making me forget absolutely everything that is not him, when we're together, and I love it. I feel so free, so light and carefree, like I could fly. I can't stop myself from smiling into my pillow, as I finally drift away, into dreams that make me hope, really, really hope, that I don't talk in my sleep..

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> feedback is amazing, guys, so don't be shy!


	25. Into The Dark

'Stage two is where the distinction between men, and boys, women, and girls, grown ups and children, are made.' Max is giving a spiel, standing on the same balcony as he did on our first day here in Dautless. His words are heavy, voice deep and yet softer than you'd expect from such a muscular man.   
'During this stage, you will face your worst fears, and learn if you're strong enough to conquer them. If you are a coward, we will find out. Good luck. You're going to need it.' 

Jay stares after the Leader as he takes off, after finishing on such a solemn note, before turning to look at me. 'Okay. I am officially scared.' He tosses down the crust on his bread, pushing away his plate. I giggle. 'It can't be that bad- no worse than having to beat one another to a pulp, right?' I reason, but Jay just gives me a 'look', raising his eyebrows, and shaking his head in disbelief. 'Lex.. this is Dauntless, remember? Anything is possible.' He emphasises the word 'anything'. I have to say, I agree. There are things that I've seen during my time here, that I never thought I'd have to face. 

Out of the corner of my eye, I see Peter rising from his place at another table, leaving Drew and a few others. He leaves alone, and I mutter some excuse to Jay about having to go the toilet before following him. I meet Charlie, coming in late, eyes shadowed with purple half-moons, lips chapped and stained red from biting them in her sleep. I greet her quietly, but she just looks right through me, empty brown eyes seeming lifeless. She passes by and sits next to Jay, staring down at the table. Ever since Jess, she's been acting this way- like a zombie. Barely functioning, barely eating, barely doing anything that isn't sleeping. During her final fight, she had appeared to have to found a little bit of her old spark- but it was doused as soon as she lost, and it hasn't returned yet. 

Peter is sauntering down towards the dorms, hands in his pockets, whistling a jaunty tune through his pursed lips.   
As he reaches the door, I grab his wrist and shove him into the room, shutting the door and pushing him against it.   
'What the fuck!' He curses at me and shoves back, legs kicking out, but I press my knee against his crotch harshly. He moans in pain, still struggling.  
'I need to talk to you.'   
He stares at me, face contorted as he groans. 'And you couldn't have just walked up and said that, huh?' I grab the collar on his jacket, and bring our faces closer together.  
'This is important, Hayes. Really, really important. I need to know that you're going to answer the question I have for you with nothing but pure and total honesty.'   
'Uh, can you take your knee away from my balls, please? You're killing my sperm.'   
I snort. 'Yeah, I'm sure the world would be grateful to be spared from having mini-Peter's running around the place.' Still, I take my knee away, and he relaxes a little.  
'What do you want to ask me?'   
'Did you push Jess off the Chasm?' 

His dark, bushy eyebrows shoot up to his hairline, as his eyes widen. 'What? No!'   
I pull him from the door, only to push him back against it, head hitting against the wood with a clunk. 'Ow!?'   
'Don't lie to me.'   
'I'm not! I swear! I was nowhere near Jess that night- I hadn't seen her since the whole thing with Molly.' I search his face, carefully, looking for any hint or sign that would betray him – but I find nothing, only sincerity, sparkling in his eyes. Then again, he was Candor-born, and he has had a lot of practice in the art of making lies sound like the truth. 

'Max told us she jumped.' Peter murmurs quietly. 'Why do you think she was pushed?'   
I hesistate; should I tell him what I saw in the footage?   
No, I decide. No, I haven't told anyone about that, not Charlie, not Jay, not even Eric.. oh, god, Eric.  
Memories of last night flood to the forefront of my mind, causing a tinge of red to bloom in my cheeks.   
Peter's arms snake around my waist, as he takes my blush the wrong way.   
'Oh, you like it like this, babe?' He smirks, angling his head down and to the side, leaning closer to me. I smack him, harshly, jumping back. 'Oi. Watch yourself, mister.'   
He glares, rubbing his reddened cheek. 'Mean.'   
'I do not like you in that way, Peter. I barely like you as a friend.' I snort, and his features become unreadable. Before I've had time to process what's happening, our previous positions have switched.   
I'm against the door, Peter leaning against me, warm, and heavy. He smells like mint and lemon and toast, his watery-blue eyes meeting mine without blinking. 'You know you want me, Lex.' He whispers, in a low voice. I smile, amused. He smells wrong, and he's not burning up like Eric does, he's not demanding my attention the way the youngest Leader can.   
If Eric wasn't in the picture, I'm pretty sure I'd play along with Peter, to see what he'd do – he's attractive, no one can deny that. But Eric is in the picture, and I have no interest in fooling around with him.   
Before I can come up with a sarcastic retort, he's whispering in my ear, warm breath tickling my lobe. 'We'd have really great hate sex.'   
The words are supposed to be alluring, inviting, but they make me want to laugh out loud. Just as I open my mouth to speak, someone cuts in first. 

'Initiates. You're supposed to be with the rest of the group. Stage two is beginning right now, and you're late.'  
My heart sinks, as Peter leans away and sighs, giving me a saddened look.   
I feel physically sick when I catch sight of Eric's face; there's only one word to describe it- and even then, it's an understatement- murderous.   
Peter doesn't seem to see the cloud of green rolling over Eric's hulking form, as he strolls past without a care in the world. If I were him, I'd be fearing for my safety right about now. Eric stares at me, and I can't keep eye contact, for reasons unfathomable to me. I haven't done anything wrong- and anyway, it's not like me and Eric are in a relationship, right? 

'It wasn't what it looked like..'   
'I don't care.' He says, and I snap my head up, looking at his suddenly cold, hard face.   
'Wait, what?'   
'You can do what you like with that little weasel, it's nothing to do with me. All I care about is getting your ass through initiation.' He nods towards the door, and after a moment, I leave. 

'I don't care..' his words bounce around my head, over and over. Ouch. That actually hurt, really, really badly. I feel his presence looming over my shoulder as he directs me with a clincal voice, up the top floor of Dauntless. Four casts a suspicious glance towards us when we enter, and the group start whispering heatedly as I come in, Eric by my side.   
'Alex. Good of you to join us,' Four's voice is laden with sarcasm, and I duck my head, embarrassed. 

I have to force myself to not look at Eric; his cold demeanour and sudden shift in emotion cutting deep. 'You know no-one actually cares about you, right? You didn't think you were anything special to him, did you? Seriously, are you that stupid?' 

I wince, trying to focus on what Four is saying, ignoring the voice inside my head sneering at me. It sounds so familiar, not like my own voice, someone else's.. 

'You won't be going through your own fear landscapes today, but each of you will be assigned one of mine or Six's fears.' Four indicates to his left, and I jerk my head to see the petite blond standing by his side. She flushes as all eyes fall on her, so Four clears his throat.   
'Just to give you an idea of what you'll be dealing with.' 

I glance up at a list that appears on a board, fixed to wall behind Four. My name is near the bottom of the list ( _damn my stupid second name_ ), and the fear I have to face is.. physical assault.   
I sigh, dropping my head into my hands as I wait for my time to come.   
We are in a room, cold and lit by harsh, clincal overhead ceiling lights that seem to glare down at us. There are three doors- one to my left, which leads back out into the compound, and two to my right. 

Every so often, Four will appear from one door, letting out a shaken initiate, calling another in for their test. Six mans the other room, and I don't know why but I feel like the fear I'm facing is going to be Four's. It's a gut instinct, something I tend to pay attention to. 

'So, you're first place?' A snotty voice drags me from my reverie, and I glance up. Peter is questioning a boy I don't recognise. Must be one of the Dauntless born.   
He is handsome, with wide, sparkling brown eyes and dark, smooth skin. He grins and nods, not cockily, just proud. And so he should be, really. He has the spot many would kill for. 

(I realise now that people may have actually killed for the top spot in years gone past.) 

Peter gives him a once-over, distaste clear as crystal on his face. It's the same look he gives anyone and everyone higher up than him on the leader board.   
'Don't you think it's a little unfair, you guys get an advantage? You train your whole lives for this, and we get a few weeks?'   
Number One shrugs, crossing his ankles as he stretches his long legs out across the floor.   
'Nah. First of all, you didn't have to choose Dauntless. And secondly-'  
'You can't actually prepare for stage two, which you would have known, had you paid any attention to your surroundings.' Snarks a girl with a shaved head and a silver hoop hooked through her right nostril.   
Peter makes a face at her, and she glares, stony faced, right back at him. 

The brunette shifts in his seat, uncomfortable. I hide a smile; I like this girl already.   
'What Lynn said. I'm Uriah, by the way.' He sends a charming smile my way, holding out a large, calloused hand for me to shake. His skin is warm, and his hold is firm but not painfully tight. 'Alex.' I say, and he nods.   
'Surly face over there is Lynn.' 

That earns another glare, and Uriah is still laughing when Peter goes in. His fear, one of Six's, is drowning. He comes back out, knee's wobbling as he cross the floor. Lynn tries to trip him, he stumbles, but manages to right himself at the last minute. Without even looking at her, he keeps going, face drained of all colour. Although it was funny, to see Lynn catching him off guard, I also become highly unsettled. If this stage managed to freak Peter out so much, it has to be really, really bad. 

Continuing the tradition, I'm one of the last to be called in – the second last, actually. The other girl left after me, goes by Z. She's second on the Dauntless borns rankings. She looks fierce, arms rolling with muscle, tattoo's crawling down her neck – but she gives me a thumbs up when Four calls my name. 

He explains the process; I would be injected with this illuminous, orange liquid, which would knock me out. Then, I'd face a simulation, similar to the Test. Only this time, I'd be facing my worst fears. At least I get to try out someone else's at first. It's the only thing that calms me, knowing today is not the day I discover what lies in the shadow's in the deepest parts of my mind. 

 

The moment Four approaches me with the large syringe, I feel myself tense up, swallowing hard as a sudden sweat breaks out on my brow.   
My instructor smirks; 'Afraid of needles?'   
I shake my head, frowning. 'Never before.'   
He shrugs. 'Just look away. You'll feel a pinch, then you'll be asleep.' 

A deep ache spreads through my neck and jaw as the needle pricks my skin, the cold, thick solution sliding into my veins. Four goes back to a computer, tapping away.   
'The aim of this is to lower your heart-rate enough to wake up again. Or, find a way to beat the fear.'   
I turn my head momentarily, as the darkness begins to pull me under. 

Four's dark brown eyes meet mine, and they seem gentler than I've ever seen them before.   
'Be brave, Alex.' is the last thing I hear, before my eyes close, and I wake up, in a startlingly familiar house.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't own Divergent and all of that disclaimer stuff. Sorry for any mistakes. Unbeta'd. Unedited. 
> 
> You know the routine.. kudos and comments make the world go 'round! 
> 
> ..well. My world, anyway.


	26. The Little Boy Is Crying

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The fear simulation brings up an old memory for Alex, and Four is not pleased with what he witnesses in Alex's mind.

The hallway I stand in is bare, only a small, square doormat lining the floor, no pictures hanging on the light grey walls. The stairs are plain wood, and no children's toys lie, strewn around the police. The place is eerily silent, putting me on edge.

This is an Abnegation house.. Why do I recognise an Abnegation house? Of all places?  
A man appears at the top of the stairs; descending them slowly.  
He's faceless, a blur covering his features. Like a drawing ruined by a dirty eraser.  
'Hello?' I ask, cautiously. 

He growls. Like, an actual animalistic growl, and I suddenly notice belt he holds, folded over in both hands. My stomach knots up, and I take a small step back. The man cracks the belt over his palm, and comes closer, raising his arm.  
I scream and back against the door, rattling the handle- but it's locked. My attempt to dodge around the man fails. A searing pain rips through me, as the thick leather strikes me right down the spine. I try to kick this faceless monster away, but he yanks my ankle and topples me, leaning over my fallen form. He brings the belt down again, it hits just over my ribcage, and I roll over, arms wrapped around my head to protect it. 

Four's voice echoes in my head, _'Be brave, Alex.'_  
I swallow, racking my brains, trying to come up with a way out of this -  
Wait.  
_Wait._

Four. **Four.**  
Thinking of him triggers a memory; something dark and hazy and blurred, a toothy smile, rarely seen, a bruised wrist, hastily explained away.  
A tall, lean brunette, crying in my doorway, late one night.  
A tall, lean brunette.. wearing Abnegation grey. 

Abnegation. Marcus Eaton. The rumours- his son. Marcus Eaton. Abusive. His son switched factions. To Dauntless?

I roll over again, narrowly avoiding another whip of the brown belt. I scramble backwards, dragging myself on my back, hands supporting me, elbows bent. Pressing against the wall, I focus on the face on the man. Marcus' power here lies in his anonymity- take that away, tear off the mask, and the fear loses control. 

'Stop!' I yell, pointing an accusing finger towards the figure. 'Stop! I know who you are – I know what you've done!'  
The figure seems to waver, flickering in and out of focus.  
'You can't do this. Not anymore. Not here. Not to me, and not to your son. I know who you are-' I inhale deeply, steeling my nerves, hoping desperately that I'm not wrong '- MARCUS EATON!' 

The figure flickers again, the face of the sallow, greasy-haired leader of Abnegation coming into focus. I have no time to really see him, because the next thing I know, I'm coming to.  
I jolt in the seat, shooting forward, almost throwing myself off the seat.  
My breathing has become erratic, and I take a moment to relax. 

I look at Four, and the blood in my body runs cold for the second time today.  
He is frozen, staring at me with eyes the size of the moon, jaw tensed. I see a muscle jumping in his temple, and I feel a twinge of guilt.  
He probably isn't too happy that I both named his father and made him visible; something it must've taken Four ages to learn how to scramble the image, make it less personal for the initiates. 

'Four, I'm sorry.'  
My words seem to yank him back, and he blinks, once, before turning his attention back to the computer screen. 'You can leave now.'  
His words are flat; robotic.  
'Four..' I try again.  
'GO!' He roars, slamming one hand down on the table with a bang.  
I don't flinch, but the sudden action makes me gasp.  
I say nothing, deciding to leave him. I've probably done enough for today, anyway. 

'Eight minutes, by the way.'  
Mr. Robot is back, when he informs my time spent in the sim. Eight minutes?  
Felt more like an hour. I nod once, not looking back. 

I bump into Eric as I'm walking back to the dorms; Z was gone when I came out, whether she was still in with Six or not, I didn't know. I'm still trying to put a name to Four's face, his real name, as I remember the child I once knew- back when his mother was alive, and was close to my own mother. Back before I looked at the world, and saw it for all it's cruelty and anger and pain. 

I'm not paying attention to where I'm walking, and I slam straight into what at first I think is a brick wall. It's Eric, and he shoves me off, a little too roughly, before snarling. 'Watch where you're going, initiate.' 'I could say the same thing to you.' I retort, and when his shoulders stiffen, I know I've gone too far.  
'Who do you think you're talking to, initiate?' He asks, voice low, cold- it reminds me of how he was, after the incident with Jess and me and the knives. The ghost of his touch, running down the slope of my neck, as he commented on how easy it would be for him to kill me, raises goosebumps on my arms. 

I don't answer.  
'That's what I thought. I think I'll dock a few marks for cheekiness.'  
Fury unfurls inside me, sparking a fire in my belly. 'What? You can't do that?'  
'I'm a Leader. I think you'll find I can.' He replies, smugly.  
My hands ball into fists, a haze of red beginning to taint my vision.  
_Calm down, Alex.. Calm down.._

'Now, run along and go and fuck your little initiate boyfriend.' He taunts, a streak of jealous laced through his words. I snap. His jealousy is pissing me off, and if he's only being cold because of what he saw in the dorms this morning- well, he was right to leave Erudite.  
Before I can stop myself, before he can process anything, my fist has connected with his nose.  
He stumbles back, startled, touching the point where my knuckles hit with the most momentum. It wasn't hard enough to really hurt him, but hard enough for my knuckles to burn a little. 

His eyes narrow. 'You'll be running laps tonight for that. Meet me out the front of the compound at ten o'clock. Don't be late. Or else.'  
He eyes me, with icy blues that hold none of the warmth or affection I've previously seen when he was looking at me. My throat tightens, and my eyes burn with unshed tears. Between the fear sim, Four's outburst, and now this- my chest hurts from holding back a lifetime of screams. I nod, before turning on my heels and walking away.  
\--  
That night, after I have run the soles off my shoes, I lie in bed, staring up at the ceiling.  
Beside me, Jay whimpers in his sleep, before turning over and nuzzling into his pillow a little. I can't help but smile at that; adorable. 

The bed to my left is empty. Jess' bed. I still can't bring myself to look at it; too overcome with anger and guilt and hurt everytime I see the empty space where she used to lie.  
I can't believe how cold I was, she needed a friend, and I left her on her own. Too selfish to put my own feelings aside for _five fucking seconds_ and reach out a helping hand.  
I should have been with her. I should have protected her.  
I toss and turn, finally falling into a restless sleep plagued with nightmares. The same voice that is haunting me echoes from behind doors in my house, from shadowed corners and empty rooms. I still can't put my finger on why this unidentified voice is so familiar, and why he speaks to me the way he does.  
_Maybe its Gabe's turn next, mm?'_  
Next? Next for what?  
When I awake, at quarter to four in the morning, my head is spinning. My palms are sweaty, and I sit up, pushing my hand over my short hair. Glancing up, to roll my neck, I suddenly notice another empty bed – Charlie's.  
My stomach swoops, and I jump, barefoot, in boxers and a tee shirt, up out of my own cot. I pad around the room, check the toilets, not finding her.  
I feel a little sick; she's been so depressed the past week, and I cannot find it in me to be there for her. I've tried, Jay's tried – it seems like we can't get through the haze of grief she's swimming in. And we're all still dealing with our own. 

I can't let her slip away, regardless. I have to find her, before it's too late.  
\--  
My breathing hitches when I see a shadowed form, hunched over, sitting on the edge of the Chasm. It's right at the point where Jess fell, where they hauled her limp and lifeless body, swollen from the water, up and over and onto the ground. I walk, quiet as I can manage, not wanting to startle her. The concrete floor is cold and hard beneath my feet- it grounds me, keeps me in the moment that feels kind of dreamlike, surreal. Like it's blurry at the edges, like it's not really happening. Then again, maybe it isn't. Maybe this is just another of my freaky dreams. 

I'm right beside her when she catches a glimpse of my ankle, looking upwards to me. She doesn't react, nor speak, simply looking back down at her swinging feet. Her shoulders are slumped defeatedly, and there's a tiredness weighing down her soft, beatiful features.  
I sit next to her, throwing my legs over to knock against hers gently. 

'You loved her, didn't you?' I ask, softly. There's a lengthy silence, before she answers.  
When she does, her head turns to me, sad, brown eyes meeting mine. 'I could have.' She murmured. 'If I- if we'd have gotten the chance.' Her voice is impossibly pained, and I don't know how to comfort her. The only person I've ever been able to handle at either end of the emotional spectrum is Gabriel. I place one of my hands over hers, the one clutching the edge of the Chasm for dear life. My heart thuds, panicked, when she turns her palm upwards and tangles her fingers with mine.  
As selfish as this is (that's all I really am, though, isn't it? Selfish.) I really, really hope she doesn't start crying. It'd probably set me off, out of pure frustration.  
Thankfully, she doesn't burst into tears, in fact, she uses her free hand to wipe the remaining teardrops at the corner of her eyes.  
She inhales shakily, smiling weakly my way.  
'Thanks, Alex.'  
'I didn't do anything..' I mumble awkwardly, ducking my head.  
She squeezes my hand.  
'You were here. That's all I needed.'  
I glance up, and return her fragile grin.  
We sit there, for a long time, as the hours tick by, and the moon crosses the sky. 

We sit, and we listen to the sound of the water crashing against the rocks, listen to the walls, breathing in the night. We listen to the secrets this place holds.  
I feel Jess, sitting next to me, her presence comforting, instead of painful.  
I smile. Charlie does, too. And I know, wherever Jess is right now, right here or somewhere else, somewhere far away, far beyond a mere mortals reach, that she's smiling, too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> all that disclaimer stuff; I don't own divergent etc etc. 
> 
> Unbeta'd, unedited, sorry for any mistakes.


	27. Be Brave, Not Fearless

Today is the day we all face our first fears. Everyone is quiet, and tense- even Uriah, despite his care-free demeanor yesterday, it's easy to tell that he's nervous.  
We all are. 

I dread seeing Four again, and wonder if he'll speak about what happened during the sim.   
Jay refuses all food, downing cup of coffee after cup of coffee, as though the caffeinated beverage were going out of style.   
I can't even stomach the smell this morning; I sip on cold water, trying to quell the nausea rolling over me in waves. Eric is ignoring me, and my feet and ankles are sore as a bitch after running laps. He made me run for well over an hour, barking out 'FASTER!' every so often, pushing my body to the limits- and then breaking straight through those limits. 

We all move sluggishly, dragging our feet, drawing out the time it takes to reach the top floor, where our worst demons await, ready to be woken, to come out with sharpened claws and biting teeth. 

This time, we're going by rank- my heart sinks below my stomach when I realise it means I'm third. However, our scores are mixed with the Dauntless borns too- putting me at eighth.   
That means seven unfortunate souls have to go to hell and back before it's turn for my trip.   
Uriah is first overall, so he goes with Four. He walks with a swagger, trying to seem more confident than he really is. Maybe I'd believe him, if I hadn't noticed the slight shake in his hands at breakfast. 

He returns, numbers appearing by his name on the board - _6.44_.   
He's clearly shaken, but throws a smile in mine and Lynn's direction as he leaves.   
Lynn is next, and she takes longer – eleven minutes. Her eyes are rimmed red when she leaves, and Peter starts to say something. However, she raises a fist and steps towards him, slamming her foot on the floor in front of the other. Peter jumps away, sliding off the chair.   
Lynn smirks, and leaves. 

Peter takes almost eighteen whole minutes, and he's the loudest- I can hear his screams from inside the room. Instead of being satisfied, my fear for what I'm about to face intensifies.   
Jay tries to laugh, but his tanned skin has become a sickly shade of green. 

Jay has landed place number seven, so he goes in before me. I place a quick kiss on his cheek. 'You're strong. You'll be fine.'   
He's in and out surprisingly fast, nine minutes, giving me a steady thumbs up on the walk out. Now, it's my turn. 

Entering the room, the same one from yesterday, I carefully avoid Four's eyes as I take my place on the seat.   
'So the drill is the same as yesterday- serum, fear, beat the fear or lower your heart-rate, wake up. The only difference is you'll be facing your own fears, instead of mine.'   
His jaw clenches at the last word, I see the spasm out of the corner of my eyes.   
'The amount of fears you have is entirely dependent on how many are strong enough to be triggered by the serum.' 

'What's the lowest number of fears anyone's ever had?'   
The corner of his mouth twitches, almost as if he were fighting off a smile.  
'Four.' is all he says.   
If my eyes widen, and my face betrays any shock and realisation,   
he says nothing. 'Your fears go in order. So your least terrifying one, is the first, the one that scares you most, is last.'   
Okay, so. At least we get to start off easy..sort of.   
I exhale quietly, and look away again when Four comes into my line of sight with his syringe. After the deep ache is beginning to fade, along with my consciousness, I accidentally meet Four's gaze. It's softer than I expect it to be, and he talks quietly.   
'Remember what I said yesterday. Be brave.'   
\-- 

Water. There's water, and it's everywhere, around me, stinging my eyes, sliding down my throat, filling my nose. I choke and gasp, watching bubbles emerging as I try to scream for help. I thrash around, kicking my legs, trying my best to send myself up towards the surface.  
But which way is up? I don't know. I don't know, and my muscles are growing heavier, more fatigued, my lungs tearing with every mouthful of murky water feeling more like shards of broken glass. I can't see anything, the water is too dark, too turbulent, the waves pushing me and pulling me, tumbling me forwards and backwards..   
My head feels like it's going to burst, a kind of peace settling as the pain fades, and my limbs cease their movements. I let myself float, losing the fight, unable to find a way to keep going..

Why? I don't want to die. 

_Because when you drown, you'll wake up, back in the fear room, with Four._   
My eyes flash open- I still can't see, nor recognise who it was that just spoke to me, so clearly.   
Still, I know the words are true, somehow, and so I don't start struggling again.   
My body gets heavier, like bags of sand are tied to every limb. I sink, sink, sink.. 

\--  
I will admit that I half-expected a liter of saltwater to pour from my lungs, out of my mouth, when I woke up, and inhaled. I found my lungs feeling perfectly normal, no sign of strain on them. My head is clear, I'm not soaked – these simulations are a total mind-fuck. 

'Not bad.' Four muses from the corner, but he's frowning at the screen. 'Nine minutes.. exactly.' An extra sixty seconds on yesterdays time. I feel a little disappointed in myself, before lifting myself off the chair. I look at Four; his lower lip sucked into his mouth, one eyebrow arched high, a look of pure concentration setting his face.   
I see the same expression, but on the face of a younger boy, with longer, lighter hair..

The name hits me, and without thinking, I whisper it, tasting it on my tongue.   
_'Tobias.'_

He looks at me, face dropping. I look away, opening the door a little.   
'Sorry. I just remembered.'   
I slip away before he can catch me, and I set off to find Jay. 

\-- 

I lean back against the headboard of my bed, Charlie sits crossed-legged at the end, and Jay is sitting on his bed, back to the wall.   
'So, we gonna talk about today..?' Jay questions, and Charlie glances at me. I shrug, looking down at my hands.   
'I was trapped in an elevator. Like, it stopped, and then I couldn't get out.' Jay shudders, and I shoot him a sympathetic look. I've always known my best friend has claustrophobia. He's used to open spaces, large fields, airy rooms. Anything involving small spaces makes him freak out. 'I was drowning.' I mutter, feeling a vague pinch in my lungs as I remember the pain of not being able to get oxygen.   
Charlie squirms, a ruby-red flush tinting her dark cheeks.   
She bites her lip for a moment, before looking away slightly.   
'What was your first fear, C?' I ask, suddenly curious. Why does she look embarrassed?   
Jay leans forward, leaning his elbows on his knees, his chin on his hands. 'Yeah, Charlie. Come on..' he wheedles, trying to draw an answer from her mouth.   
Cringing, Charlie looks to the floor, before whispering something neither of us quite catch.   
'What was that?' 

She raises her voice. It's still not enough to be heard.   
Jay repeats his question.   
Charlie sighs, covering her face with her hands.   
Lifting them from over her lips so the words won't be muffled, she finally tells us. 

'Sheep, okay? I was trapped in an Amity field being chased by sheep!' Jay snorts, so hard it sounds painful, falling sideways off the bed as laughter wracks through his body. I grab my pillow, burying my head into it, trying to quell the giggles that seem uncontrollable.  
'Yeah, alright.' Charlie glares our way, irritation in her voice. 'Fuck you both.'   
'I'm so- sorry, but – but really, C..-' I can't finish my sentence, making the mistake of meeting Jay's eyes. He's practically vibrating, having moved on to the 'silent-and-clapping-like-a-seal' kind of laughter. I dissolve into my own silent laughter once again.   
'Seriously- sheep?' Jay chokes out, eyes watering. My own eyes begin to seep water, literally crying from the laughter.   
'Have you ever looked a sheep in the eyes? It hasn't got a soul! It looks evil!'   
'What- what do you think it's gonna do?'   
'Sneak in your window and eat you in your sleep?' I squeak, making Jay laugh harder.   
'A sheep could do that! We don't know!' Charlie's beginning to smile now, though I see her trying to hide it.   
Jay wipes his tears away with long, shaking fingers. I notice that he's become a little paler since we got here- we do not get out enough.   
'You're both mean.. I didn't laugh at your fears!' Charlie points out, and Jay snorts once more.   
'Yeah, my fear wasn't a farm animal.'   
'You are a farmer,' Charlie scoffs. 'You're used to being around animals.'   
'Yeah- that's why I'm such good friends with you and Alex.' He quips, a cheeky grin lighting up his face. Charlie gasps, throwing her pillow at him. He bats it away and sticks his tongue out. 'Mature.' I comment, and he flips me off. 

We sit for hours, not noticing that dinner time has come and gone before the rest of the initiates are trickling in for curfew.  
Jay moans. 'I'm going to starve!' He flops onto his back, staring at the ceiling.   
'Drama queen.' I roll my eyes, and lie back myself, thinking how nice it was, to just sit and talk with my friends. To have a laugh, and not bring anything serious up. Just .. just be normal teenagers, really. 

Curfew starts at ten, and Four comes in just as the digital clock goes from 21:59 to 22:00.   
'Alright, initiates. I want you dressed in warm clothes, and sturdy boots, and out on the roof for the train within in the next ten minutes. Get to it.'   
None of us get the chance to ask why we're getting on a train at this time of the night, or where it is we're going. We dress, and I lace up my boots, double knotting the sides. Jay kneels by Charlie's bed, and double-knots hers. 'To be fair, I was never taught by my parents. In Candor, we usually wear slip-on shoes.' She explains on the walk up to the rooftop. Peter elbows her out of the way, shooting me a wink as he bounds further ahead of us.   
'How are you friends with him?' Jay asks, shaking his head exasperatedly.   
'I'm not.' I reply. 'He just like..sticks to me.'   
'Un-stick him.' Charlie grumbles. I smile at her, feeling a sudden burst of affection for her. Without thinking, I throw my arm over her shoulder, and pull her into me. She looks up, bewildered, but doesn't move away. 

I let her go when we reach outside, the cool air a fresh change from the stuffiness of below ground. Eric and Four are standing together, and Eric leans towards the smaller man.   
'When is the train due to arrive?' He asks.  
Four glances at a silver watch strapped to his wrists. 'Four minutes. Are you ever going to memorise the train schedule?'   
Eric smirks, his eyebrow rising slightly, the smug look I am very familiar with at this stage taking over his features. 'Why would I, when I have you here to tell me?'   
Four groans and rolls his eyes, while Eric chuckles.   
I haven't heard his laugh in days; it makes me smile, as my gaze lingers on his dark form a few feet away. He turns his head, and meets my eyes. Sobering instantly, he tilts his head to the side, his lips pressing into a thin line. He looks at me- no, through me, like I'm not even here. I look away quickly, suddenly feeling like an idiot. Stupid feelings. Stupid Eric. Stupid jealousy. Stupid..

I'm so busy cursing everything and anything that I can think of that I don't notice the train coming. Jay elbows me in the ribs, a little too hard, and runs. I rub the sore spot for a moment, before taking off myself. I miscalculate the distance from the roof to the open door on the cart, and just about manage to grab a hold of the rail stuck to the outside.   
'Shit.' I swear under my breath, the wind from the trains momentum stinging my eyes and slapping at my face. My hands slip, as I try to swing myself into the carriage.  
Warm hands grasp my waist, yanking me forward. I stumble against Eric's chest, and when I look up to thank him, there's a hint of concern peeking out from under his emotionless mask.   
'You okay?' He asks quietly, and I nod. He steps away then, turning his back.   
Fuck, this man gives me whiplash.   
\-- 

Four throws a couple of gym bags onto the middle of the floor, unzipping one. From it, he pulls two guns, throwing one to Eric across the way. He catches it with impressive ease, and I have to force myself not to stare. 'We're playing a game of Capture the Flag. We split up into two teams, and the winning team is the one that gets the others flag first. This game teaches strategy, skill, and gives you a sense of what it's like to be shot at, and to shoot.'   
Peter's greasy-haired friend laughs. Four cuts him a cold look, and the compartment falls silent. 'What, with those guns? What's in them, water?'   
Peter smirks a little, but he subtly shuffles further away from this lean, lanky dumbshit. Clever boy. Four lifts and aims the gun in his hand, pulling the trigger. Something shoots out with a high 'whiiizz!', landing on the kid's right thigh. He screams out, falling to his knees. He fumbles at the tear in his jeans, yanking out what looks to be a silver dart, two prongs sticking out at the end. 'Neuro-stim bullet.' Four explains, turning in a circle to look at us all.   
'Simulates the pain of a real bullet. Only lasts a couple of seconds, though.'   
He casts a disdainful eye to the boy panting on the floor. 

'Now, teams! Eric, you can pick first this year.'   
Eric sighs, like he doesn't want to be here. 'Like you're doing me any favours.'   
Four just smirks. The taller man glances around the train, as if weighing up the pros and cons of each initiate. Four taps his foot, impatient. 'We don't have all night.' He says, annoyed.  
Eric smiles; happy to be getting on Four's nerves.   
Honestly, the two of them together are worse than children. 

'Jay.' Eric decides. Jay gives me a faux-terrified look, before taking the first spot beside Eric.   
'Charlie.'   
'Mark.'   
'Peter.'   
A small smile grows on his lips. 'Alex.' I look up in surprise, but he's not looking at me. Jay grins and high fives me, sharply.   
I did not think I would be on this time. Why would Eric pass up the opportunity to shoot at me?   
The choosing continues, and the Dauntless-born are next. To my delight, Uriah and Lynn are put on our team. 'Hey, Lex.' Uriah greets me happily, while Lynn stands behind him, arms crossed, looking sullen as ever. 'Hey, Uri. Hey, Lynn. You look as cheerful as ever.' Lynn just stares blankly at me, but I see the amusement flickering in her dark blue eyes.   
Uriah slaps Jay's shoulder, his dark brown eyes sparkling with excitement. 'This is the best part of initiation every year.' He explains. 

'Your team can get off first.' Eric nods, and yells at us to line up.   
I look over my shoulder, to mouth a quick farewell to Charlie. I feel bad for her- she's stuck with Peter and Drew, and I feel sick as I think of all the ways they can taunt her while she's alone.  
Again, I let my thoughts get the better of me- the next thing I know, Eric is screaming in my ear for me to jump. He grabs my hand, and together we fly through the air, hitting the ground running. He yanks his hand away and frowns at me. 'You better start focusing.' He warns me, before turning to lead the group. I hold my gun up, aiming it at his back, pretending to shoot while making a face. The other initiates on my team laugh – even Lynn cracks a smile. Eric turns around. 'What's so funny?' He demands to know, but no one answers.  
'Grow up. Come on, we don't have much time.' He yells, an edge to his tone. 

Well, I think to myself, falling into step beside Jay. 

Let the games begin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> disclaimer; I don't own Divergent and all that.


	28. Shots In The Dark

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A game of Capture the Flag throws Alex and Eric together again; can they work things out?

'So. Planning. What do you think we should do?'  
For a moment, everyone is silent as they think. Uriah voices his idea first – that we should stick with our flag and wait for them to find us – and after that, a cacophony of voices fills the air, words overlapping, mixing together to form an incoherent babble.  
I step back from the fray, taking in my surroundings in the dim light. There's some lights over by the tracks, but the bulbs aren't strong enough to properly light this big, open area. There's a thicket of trees over to my right, over by the direction the train carrying Four and his team had headed. I look to my right, and then ahead, walking a few steps forward to get a better look. A lake lies in the distance, only recognisable as a body of water due to the white feathered beasts gliding smoothly over the top. There's more fences, separating fields, and a looming silhouette of an old abandoned farmhouse, looking a little neglected.  
Behind me, Eric claps his hands to quiet the team, and he sighs.  
'Alex? You got any idea?' His voice is sour, but I think it's just the annoyance he feels towards the others for not formulating a plan. 

'The train is heading that way- over past the trees. So wherever Four ends up is going to be through those trees. If we hurry, two of us could probably make it through the trees first and be waiting before they get there. Another few go down the fields – there's no way Four would expect us to be in the open, so they're probably safe enough. Two or three go over there,' I nod toward the old house. 'With the flag, one to stay inside with the flag, the others to keep a lookout. Whoever goes down the fields, wait until the two in the forest start shooting at the other team. Then, run like crazy over to where the team came from – we have to go, like now, to have any chance of catching where they will come from. I mean, if we're going for that. Anyway, and then find and get the flag.' 

Everyone turns back to Eric, almost in perfect sync- which is kind of weird.  
He seems to be thinking, eyes fixed on the ground. He's moving his head slightly, something I've noticed he does when he's deep in thought.  
'Two over at the house. That leaves eleven of us. Maybe three at the house? That leaves ten. Two through the woods, two down the fields..' He's muttering, apparently to himself.  
He nods suddenly. 'It's a good plan. I have some adjustments though.'  
I shrug. 'Whatever you thin, boss.'  
He pauses at that, and the rest of them hold their breaths – will I get a slap on the wrist for being cheeky?  
Eric meets my eyes in the dark and I can see a small, pleased smile appear on his lips for just a moment.  
'Okay, huddle.' He instructs authoritatively, and we all band together to go over the plan. 

'Who wants to guard the flag?' Lynn volunteers, and Uriah objects. 'You're supposed to be my action partner Lynn- what the hell!'  
Her voice is cold and firm when she replies; 'It is cold and dark and I am tired and hungry. I am not running around shooting little pain injections or getting shot with little pain injections. I'll guard the flag.'  
Eric nods again and hands it over. 'Okay then- two go down the fields, but here's the change – you lead the others through the tree's. Any volunteers?'  
Uriah waves his hand in the air, jumping from one foot to the other in excitement. Eric rolls his eyes, I just about catch him doing it. I smile at the ground when Jay offers to go with our new friend.  
'Now, I want two more of you with Lynn, keeping watch, and the other three hiding here to get any stragglers that get by. Who's going through the woods, to wait for Uriah and Jay to lead Four's team away?'  
'Wait-' Lynn interrupts, and makes a face at Eric when he glares at her. 'If Uriah and Jay are to lead the other team through the forest, and the people going looking for the flag will be waiting at the other end of the forest- how are you going to like, not be seen?'  
Eric snaps his mouth shut and rubs his forehead. 'Use your brain.' He spits out.  
Lynn still looks clueless. I point towards the sky, understanding what Eric means. 'Climb the trees.'  
'Now that we have that sorted, who's going to do that?'  
'Me.' I don't mind; the dark doesn't bother me, and it's my plan (edited, but still mine).  
'Who else?'  
No one replies.  
Everyone turns to look at the girl from the fear room a couple days ago.. I'd not even noticed she was on our team. Z? I think that's her name, but is it pronounced Zee or Zed?

'Why is everyone looking at me?' She protests, and Uriah points out that she's probably the one of the bravest here.  
'Uh-uh. I am not going into those woods.' Z shakes her head furiously, slipping behind Lynn. 'Fuck knows what's in there.' I sigh. 'Fine- I'll go alone.'  
'No, you won't.' Eric chips in, finally. 'I'll come with you. I don't feel like having Max shoved up my ass, chewing my insides because an initiate got lost or killed.' He sounds irritated, and a flash of white-hot fury streaks like lightening over me. Why doesn't he make one of the other's come? If he insisted, there's no way any of them would be stupid enough to defy him.  
He strides off, and the rest of the team disperse, Jay winking at me before running off towards the down the fields. Trudging after Eric, I bite out an angry sentence. 'I would've been fine on my own.' He doesn't look at me, replying in a clipped tone. 'Like I said. Can't risk an initiate getting hurt or killed.' I scoff. 'Like you even care.'  
Eric stops, out of the blue, causing me to slam into his back. 'What did you just say?'  
Walking around his frozen form, I frown. I can just about see his face, completely clinical, eyes a frozen-blue, cold as always.  
'What?'  
'Don't- don't think that I don't care if you get hurt.' My heart skips a beat, and I almost say something. Instead, I turn, and approach the edge of the woods, trees towering almost up to the sky from this perspective. I can't separate one tree from another in the darkness, and it takes a few minutes for my eyes to adjust. Stepping into an open space, I take a couple steps into the darkness that threatens to swallow me whole. I don't hear Eric moving, and when I turn, I can just make out his tall, broad silhouette hovering a few feet away from where the line of tree's begin. 'Are you waiting for something?' I ask, and I hear when he grinds his teeth together harshly, the noise making me cringe.  
'Give me a second.' He huffs, coming towards me, placing one hand on the bark of a tree. He inhales deeply, and slowly, almost uncertainly, he follows my footsteps.  
I stare up at him for a second, realisation dawning on me. 'Oh. You're afraid of the dark.'  
It isn't a question, and there's no judgement in the way I say it. 'Everyone's afraid of something.' He mutters. I pause for a second. 'I didn't think you were afraid of anything.' 

 

We manoeuvre over and under low branches, in silence for the first while.  
'I would've thought you'd liked to have had the chance to shoot me.' I admit, keeping my eyes fixed straight head. 'Not you. Peter.' he grumbles.  
'Why? Thought you didn't care what I did with him.' I feel Eric tensing up in the small space, as we move slowly through the woods. It is so dark, I can barely see my feet when I look down.  
'You could've just asked me if I was with him.' I murmur, and he sighs deeply.  
'I know. I'm not very good at talking about- things.' I smile, and shake my head.  
'Me either.' 'So.. you're not?' He clarifies, trying a little too hard to sound casual.  
'Fuck no. Give me some credit.' He laughs a little at that.  
Butterflies erupt in my stomach, fluttering away like there's no tomorrow.  
I can't see where I'm going- in all fairness, I should have known I'd trip over something eventually. My foot catches on a root that has grown right up out of the ground, and I barely manage to hold back a yell of surprise as I pitch myself forward.  
'Alex?'  
'Yeah?'  
'..What just happened?'  
'I'm on the floor.'  
'Where?'  
'Um. On.. on the floor?'  
Eric makes an annoyed sound. 'Obviously. Can you get up? I can't see you.'  
'I think so?' I flatten my palms against the damp soil, feeling the clumps of brown sticking to my hands. Pushing myself up, I trip over the stupid branch _again_.  
This time, I land with my face pressed against Eric's stomach, knee's buckling a little as I stagger. I feel hands pressing cautiously against my waist, travelling up the length of my spine. How the hell is he always so warm? I can feel his heat radiating through my hoodie and tee-shirt, and a shiver runs through my body before I can stop it. I lift my head so it's not in such an obscene place.  
'Enjoying yourself?' Eric whispers in my ear, lips brushing the shell gently.  
I slap his chest. 'Shut up.' I stand back carefully, holding his shoulders so that if I hit that pesky branch, I have something to grab onto.  
'It's so fucking dark.' I grumble, and I feel the vibrations as Eric laughs.  
'Well, it's night time.'  
'Oh? I thought the apocolypse was upon us.' I live and breathe sarcasm these days.  
'Here- turn around.' I obey, reluctantly lifting my hands off his steady, broad shoulders.  
His hands grasp my waist, tightly, and a spark of arousal begins to flicker.  
NOT THE TIME, BODY. I scold myself in my head, swallowing nervously when Eric brushes his lips against my ear again. 'Walk. I'll hold on to you.' 

We make it through soon after, the blind leading the blind, never stumbling or tumbling over again. At the edge of the woods, Uriah frowns at me from his hiding place, mouthing 'what took so long?'  
I shrug, waving my hand in a vague 'I'll explain later' gesture. He rolls his eyes, before looking to Eric, who nods once, hands tightening around his gun.  
Uriah yanks the hood of his jacket up, and moves into the shadows, prowling around like a tiger. He disappears, and we wait for the signal. The only sound that can be heard is mine and Eric's steady breathing, the shuffle of woodland creatures scurrying about behind us. 

Jay appears from the shadows and nods, and Eric lifts me into the nearest tree. He climbs up the one beside it, and we hide in the foliage, creeping back a little.  
A sudden burst of loud gunfire splits the night in two, and there's a lot of yelling and shouting before the sound of a crowd running grows closer. Through the thick foliage I can see Jay and Uriah running like lunatics, splitting up to enter the forest separately. Four and nine others follow, and Four is laughing. Eric smirks into the dark. Hopefully, winning might put him in a better mood. 'He only has eleven on his team- and there's nine with him.'  
'He left one guarding the flag.'  
'Yep,' he nods. 'Idiot Stiff.' He mutters under his breath. Then, he glances at me, clearly wondering if I heard him. 'I know To- Four was Abnegation.' I curse myself for letting out that I know his real name, too.  
'And you know his name?' Eric sounds curious – Erudite's, I think. Always looking for answers.  
'How?'  
'Now isn't the time for that story.' I mutter, dangling my legs over the branch, getting ready to jump. 'I'll jump down first- see if there's any waiting. Then, I'll catch you.'  
'Really?' I ask, only half joking. He looks me in the eye and repeats those last three words solemnly and slowly.  
'I'll catch you.' 

He slides off the branch, landing easily on both feet, hand on his gun, ready to shoot at any surprise attackers. No one appears, and after a few minutes, he motions for me jump.  
I push myself off and I get that sudden, breath-stealing, stomach sensation of falling- before I'm in Eric's arms, and he holds me against his chest for a few seconds longer than is really necessary. 'Told you I'd catch you.' He says, sounding hoarse. I swallow hard, needing to get away from his embrace – it's too hard and it hurts too much to know I can't have him, not now, at least. 

Four isn't that stupid. He sent a few of his teammates back to defend the flag, making them go around the fields so anyone watching wouldn't have noticed. I get one Dauntless born down, before a white hot, searing pain rips through my right shoulder. I fall to the ground, losing my grip on the gun. Charlie runs past, yelling apologies. I reach for my fallen weapon with my left hand, managing to pull the trigger. Due to my warped sense of perception from being on the ground, and the fact that my left hand isn't my dominant one, my aim ends up being off. Still, I get her in the back of her calf, and she stumbles, screaming, collapsing on the ground. I rip the needles from my shoulder, and stand shakily. Eric is torturing Peter, who is writhing on the ground being shot at mercilessly. I might hang out with Peter every now and then, but he's a jerk, so I leave Eric to it. I find another Dauntless born with the flag, and I get hit again, in the leg, but now I'm anticipating the pain. Somehow, I stay standing, and aim my gun at the girls chest. Eric gets there from behind, obviously finished with the ex-Candor idiot.  
I snatch the flag, screaming with triumph.  
Eric takes it then and puts one arm around my shoulder. 'Good work.' He praises, and the words, as well as the physical contact, causes a warm feeling to spread throughout my veins. 

The whole train ride home is hilarious. Uriah keeps yelling 'CHAMP-I-ONS! CHAMP-I-ONS!' and the rest of the team joins in, much to Four's irritation. Eric keeps smiling smugly, slapping the leaner man on the back a little too hard. 'Maybe next year.' He teases, while I sit with my back to the carriage, next to awfully quiet Charlie. I nudge her gently, and she looks at me with tears threatening to overflow from her eyes. My stomach tightens.  
I feel awful for it, but I can't help thinking _please don't ruin tonight, please don't lose your shit again, Charlie, please.._ I shove away the guilt- this is Dauntless. She can't keep breaking down every five minutes, I reason with myself.  
'I just can't believe I shot you. I'm so sorry.' She whispers shakily.  
'Don't be silly! It was all part of the game and I shot you back. We're good, yeah? It's not like you actually killed me. You're not a murderer, C,- yet' I joke, but she tenses up immediately. 'Do you think I could be, one day?' She asks, sounding frantic and terrified.  
'No! No, I was – it was – I was kidding, C.' I sigh, and she seems to relax. 

I look at her, wondering just what the fuck is going on in her head. I honestly worry; she's been so freakin' weird since Jess passed away. I get the whole 'grief is different for everybody' thing, but part of me wonders if it's just the grief, or if there's something else wrong.  
\--

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> unbeta'd, mostly unedited, I finished this at like twenty five past one in the morning. I had the start written, but I was busy the past two days so I can only update now. Hope you enjoy! As always, kudos&feedback are appreciated.  
> disclaimer- i don't own divergent or it's characters/world.


	29. Don't You Remember Me?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alex's eighth fear triggers some traumatic memories, turning her entire world upside down.

I am exhausted. Of course, everyone is. Late night's don't really go with early mornings, and we had normal wake up call this morning- and it seemed that Four hit the copper pipes off the railings a little harder than he usually does. 

It's more than likely that he's pissed - he lost the game to Eric, meaning I can probably expect to be stabbed mercilessly by that stupid freakin' needle. I'm the last one out of bed, and I find Charlie, Jay, Uriah and Lynn crowding around a breakfast table in the mess hall. They're chatting away, excitedly, and as soon as I sit across from my ex-Amity best friend, he's pointing at me. 'You.' He announces ominously.   
'Me.' I say back, sipping at my double espresso, trying to wake up.   
'We are all getting inked – finally! - tonight. After the fear craic. We won – sorry, Charlie – we deserve to celebrate!'   
Uriah starts whooping and Jay joins in. Lynn shakes her head at me and we exchange exasperated looks. 'You two are so annoying.'   
'Yeah, how do you have the energy for all of..' I wave my hands in the air, gesturing to them. 'This. Shouting. Jumping. It's too early.' I grouse, and Uriah just grins.   
'A good car doesn't run out of fuel that easy.' He winks, and Lynn scoffs, while I laugh. 

A blur of black and silver brings my attention to the door- Eric is leaving, and as he does, he turns his head and gives me a look. He doesn't smile, but there's a glint in his eye that makes my stomach flip, and my heart skip a beat. The other three decide to head up to the fear room, and I follow them.   
They're all talking about the tattoo's they want- I'm far too tired to converse with anyone at the moment, so I hang behind my friends, gradually slowing down, finally losing them when they turn a corner. I retrace my steps, creeping through the many halls of Dauntless, finally catching a glimpse of the youngest leader as he disappears down another darkened corridor.   
I slip after him, real quick, calling his name quietly.   
He pauses, and I see the muscles in his back and arms tensing immediately. He turns his head, and sees me. He walks back, relaxing slightly, but his solid grey eyes search mine intently. 'Is everything okay?' He wants to know. I nod. 'I just.. I saw you, and I wanted to say hi.'   
He quirks a pierced eyebrow. 'Hi.'   
'Hi.'  
We stand in silence, just looking at each other, memories of last night - _don't think i don't care if you get hurt – i'll catch you_ \- playing over in our minds. Well, in my mind. I can't speak for him.   
'I should probably go.. Four's pissed enough already. If I'm late, he might actually kill me.'  
'If he lays one finger on you I will personally throw him into the Chasm.'  
Half of me wants to smile at that, but the seriousness in Eric's face kind of kills the humour. And anyway, we both know that he's not joking.   
I turn to leave, and I make it two steps away before I turn back. I take two long strides back and I take his face in my hands, pushing up on my toes to press our lips together- finally. I sigh, as he pulls me into him, his hands splayed across my back, practically leaking heat.  
The kiss is heavy and hot and passionate and – perfect.   
When I pull back, he brings his forehead to rest against mine. 'You should probably go. Like you said - Four's already in a terrible mood, and since you were on my team..' He raises one eyebrow, a smug smirk spreading across his lips. I groan, and he leans down again quickly, to drop a chaste kiss to my lips again, before letting me go. I feel cold when we lose physical contact, and I ache to step closer again. But I can't put off facing my fears any longer, so I turn and run off. 

\--   
The week goes on, and, at night, the dorms are filled with screams, and terrified initiates waking up shivering. Nightmares are a common thing, now, all of our deepest fears, once buried down deep, have been brought to our attention with an almost painful, magnified focused. Over past few days, I've faced drowning, being left alone, watching helplessly as Jay and Gabriel were tortured in front of me, being forced to shoot a faceless innocent, choosing who lived from a choice of ninety-nine people I didn't know, and one person I knew and loved. I was trapped between walls slowly inching closer to me as the seconds ticked on, and I felt the heat of the flames when I was caught up in a burning house. I'm waiting now, to see if I've got anymore fears, or if there's just seven. 

Four slides the needle in, and I barely notice the pinch, well used to the sensation now. He nods once at me, and I smile wryly, feeling it slip away as I fall down into the familiar, spiralling darkness. 

_There's a lot of shouting. I'm lying on my back. There's a lot of shouting, but I can't make out the words. I can hear the buzz of raised voices, in the distance. Opening my eyes, I see the specks of dust floating in the air over me; past that, is a domed ceiling, a dark, wooden criss-cross of thick slats. My hands press to the floor, coming into contact with thick layers of grey dust, and – is that hay? Sitting up, I realise. Yes, it's hay. I take a handfull of the dry, scratchy yellowed stuff, letting it fall out of my open palm. The voice suddenly become louder. Getting closer.  
When I glance down, I notice that my legs are shorter. A lot shorter, and my hands are smaller, in fact, my entire body is tiny – what the hell is this? My mind feels too big in this body, and I roll up, kneeling, staring all around me. _

_I know this place. I know this place all too well, and yet still not well enough. The thick, musky scent of oak, a soft breeze lifting my long hair – long? Oh, fuck.  
I'm twelve years old again. Two silhouettes appear just outside the open doors of the barn, and I realise I know these voices. One in particular stands out – cuts into my nerves with an agonising twist, a brief sensation of familiarity crashing like a tidal wave across me. I dive behind a pile of emptied crates, stacked up and ready to be taken down to Amity to use as firewood.   
'This is the barn at the side of my house.' I think, and I realise I'm up on the loft, and that one of the people who've just arrived is also now on the loft.   
Peeking out, around the boxes, I see a slim figure, dressed all in blue- a tight blonde hairstyle, a ghost of a curved smirk. I recognise one other voice- my brother, Michael's. I still can't make out what they're saying. It's like trying to listen to something, when you have your head submerged in water. Everything is distorted, syllables stretched out, words elongated beyond recognition.  
I know that they're arguing, because I can just about see the bright red flush colouring my brother's cheeks – he only ever goes red when he's upset, or angry. His brow is creased in the middle, and there's a tightnes to his posture, neck stiff, shoulders tensed, pushed back.   
The other boy – he has a name, and a face, but I can't quite put my finger on either of them – he scares me. I am terrified, right now, my hands are shaking, my eyes burn with tears, and my heart is pounding a bruise into my ribs. Why? Who is he?   
The only thing I know is that I'm afraid.. _

_and that I know how to make the feeling stop.  
It's not like I'm in control of my limbs when I move, it's more like I'm a puppet, dangling on a string, stumbling forward, arms outstretched. My palms press against the slipperly, silken fabric of this boy's jacket, the feeling lasting less than a second before he's tumbling, falling, crashing.   
Not breathing.   
A puddle of red surrounding the crown of his head.   
Legs bent, splayed at awkward – no, not awkward, unnatural – angles.   
I stare. My brother looks at me. There's fear in his eyes, now.  
But why is he scared? I'm not the threat! That kid was!   
Kid. Kid. _

_Was._

_Past tense._

_Michael's lips move, but no sound leaves his mouth. I hear the word anyway, as loud as if it had been screeched into a megaphone, attached to a speaker.  
Murderer.   
Murderer.   
MURDERER! _

I shoot up in the chair, too fast, flinging myself onto the floor. Four is staring, looking half-amused, half-confused.. and, just like that, my entire world changes, never to be the same again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> disclaimer- don't own divergent, all that legal stuff. 
> 
> your comments on this seriously give me life- feedback is always appreciated! I thought I should let you know, you should prepare for the next few chapters. Aw, Eric and Alex are finally (sort-of) official and happy together! Great, right?
> 
> .. I'd like to formally apologise for what's coming up in the next few chapters.


	30. Blast From The Past

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Who is the blonde boy haunting Alex in her dreams, and fear landscape? When she finds out, she might wish she'd never wondered.. 
> 
> (Yeah, the chapter title sucks. I couldn't think of a good one.)

My eighth, and final, fear plays on my mind, over and over again, haunting me every night, a blur of a face on a tall, tanned body, a smudge of slick, blonde hair in Erudite blue. I wake, screaming- at least I'm not the only one. Charlie falls from her bunk the night before our final test, in the fear landscape, yelling about 'fluffy killing machines', while Jay tends to just jerk awake, sweaty, panting hard. Peter wets himself, the same night Charlie falls out of her cot.  
The other initiates laugh, and jeer, while the jerk that is one of my best friend's bundles up his sodden sheets, flips his mattress and runs to the laundry room, cheeks crimson.  
I sigh, and crack my knuckles a little threateningly. 'Shut the hell up, all of ya. One more word, and you'll have me to deal with. Now, I'm in the top three. So if anyone's brave – or _stupid_ \- enough to make a joke, do it now.' I glare around the room, watching as no one meets my eyes. Even Jay holds up his hands in surrender, before turning back over and falling back into the land of dreams. Charlie is still huddled beneath her duvet, muttering about sheep. 

I roll my eyes, following Peter. He's crying, though he tries his best to hide it when I walk into the room. He's switched on a washing machine, the sound of water filling up the silver cylinder cracking the otherwise perfect silence. Peter sniffles, and sends me a sour look. 'Come to have a laugh as well?' He sneers, but behind the almost-perfect mask, I can see the hurt glimmering in his eyes. 'No. I came to see if you wanted a hand bringing up clean sheets.' 

He turns away, and I see his shoulder's shaking gently. 'Peter. I said I'd fight anyone who dared say a word to you. Okay?'  
'Why?' His voice cracks, and I roll my eyes, reaching up to a higher shelf, yanking down fresh bedclothes. 'Because, for some reason, I actually like you, dickwad. For want of a better word, I'd say we're friends. Wouldn't you?' 

He turns his head, a small smile creeping onto his features. 'Yeah.'  
I throw the duvet cover over his head, he swats it off, squawking indignantly.  
'C'mon, idiot.' Taking the bedsheet and a couple pillowcases, I start off down the corridor, back towards the dorms. Peter falls into step beside me, strangely quiet for once. 

'Alex?'  
'Mm?'  
'.. Thank you.' The words are quiet, but weighted with sincerity, and I smile to myself.  
'Don't mention it. Seriously. Can't have anyone thinkin' I'm soft, okay?'  
He laughs at that. 'Course not. You, soft? I've met brick walls softer than you.' 

His words are teasing, but something about them stirs up that awful, wheedling voice. Something about them causes a lump to form in my throat, and a flash of my nightmare rolls across my eyelids. I bite my lip. 

'I've met brick walls softer than you.' Suddenly, I'm not so sure that that's a compliment. 

\-- 

The next morning, I sit on the edge of Jay's bed as he applies a thin coating of cream over my new tattoo. I crane my neck, to catch a glimpse of the design inked neatly into my left shoulder. Uriah had tried talking us all into getting matching ones, an idea firmly shot down by myself, and Lynn – but not without the threat of a few punches.  
I bite my lip, surveying the reddened skin- and the thin, precise lines marking out the shape of a fire, burning heatedly against my shoulder blades. Basically the Dauntless symbol, without the circle caging it inside. My fire cannot be contained; it burns wild and free. Jay got the Amity symbol; the tree withered and old, no longer in bloom - _to show how I never really fit in there, but it will always be a part of who I am_ he'd explained last night. Pretty cool, honestly. 

Charlie had gone back and forth over various designs, seeing one she liked, then another that she loved, and other that she just _had_ to get, before settling on something small, but meaningful. The arrow flew along her collarbone, simple, subtle. It meant something like always aiming, always moving forward. Pretty cool, really. Lynn got a severed zombie hand inked onto her right forearm, all blood and gore and rotted skin falling away to reveal bone and strands of muscle. Charlie and Uriah almost threw up at the sight, but myself and Jay were intrigued by the talent of the tattoo artist, how he'd been able to make it look so realistic and not cartoon-ish.  
Uriah got the Dauntless symbol, something about a family tradition during initiaton, apparently, his mother, father, and older brother had all gotten the same one when they were initiates. 

I shiver when I catch Eric's eye as I wait my turn to face my fear landscape. He curls his lips up into a wicked smirk, my cheeks flooding crimson as I avert my gaze, ignoring Jay's curious look. 

_\- the night before -_

_The music in the Pit blared relentlessly, loud, each beat of the bass reverberating right across the stone floor, seeming to shake the compound right to it's foundations. I glanced over towards the back of the tattoo shop, where Jay was draped across a black leather recliner, a needle digging into his back, in and out, in and out, buzzing quietly. Uriah was chatting up one of the other artists, and Charlie was bouncing from folder to folder of beautiful designs, almost vibrating with excitement._  
I turned back to an open book full of skulls, poison symbols, fiery motorcycles, naked men and women. I turned the pages over, hearing a deep, familiar laugh that made my breath catch in my throat. Looking over my shoulder, I saw him, laughing at the bar next door with two men I didn't recognise. He was dressed in tight black jeans, and a tight, sleeveless shirt, showing off his thick biceps, clinging to and accentuating the bulk of his ridiculously muscled chest. Eric's tattoo's were beautiful, I thought, tracing them with my eyes. Suddenly, he glanced up, catching sight of me. His blue eyes darkened subtly, and he excused himself from his present company, making his way across to me. I turned back, my stomach tied in knots. 'Getting inked?'  
His gruff voice almost caused my knees to give way, and it was a struggle to stay standing.  
I turned, leaning against the desk the book I'd been flipping through was laid on. 'Maybe. Haven't seen anything I like just yet.' His gaze traveled up and down my body, and I felt a little self-conscious. I wore a figure-hugging black dress, very short, no tights and black heeled boots, a cut in both sides of my hips showing off some skin. My dark hair was spiked up, and I was wearing make up for the first time since I arrived. Just some eyeliner, eyeshadow, red lipstick. Eric sucked in his own lip, the lower lip, biting down on it. He leaned in closer, one hand on either side of the table, effectively trapping me – like I'd want to escape, anyway. 'You look so damn gorgeous, Lex.'  
His hot breath tickled my ear, lips brushing against the sensitive spot just behind it. He smirked, his knuckles stroking the side of my stomach, revealed by my dress, gently, watching me squirm.  
'I can't even kiss you until you're finished initiation. Not here.' He murmured, and I leaned away a little, to meet his eyes. I grinned, placing one hand on his hip, strategically, so no one would see.  
'Well, good things come to those who wait.' I let my hand drift down, and squeezed his thigh, dangerously close to his crotch. A wicked moan escaped his mouth, and his eyes grew even darker, a mischievous glint shining from his dilated pupils. 'You're playing with fire, baby.' He warned gently, pressing closer, our bodies almost flush. I felt his excitement, against my own thigh. Slipping out from his embrace, I made sure to grind my leg between his, and he moaned again- the loud music is a godsend, I realised. 'You better go take care of yourself.' I whispered, running one hand down his back, before turning and walking off- making sure to sway my hips a little in the process.

\--  
Jay coughs next to me. I jump, suddenly yanked from my reminiscence.  
'Why are you gone all red?' He asks, puzzled. 'Uh, I dunno.'  
My best friend makes a face at that; he knows when I'm lying, damn him.  
'Okay- I'll tell you after.' Jay narrows his aqua-eyes, before nodding. 'Anyway, did you know the Leaders are watching our fears today?' I jerk my head over; sure enough, Eric has disappeared, along with Uriah. 'No?' Jay shakes his head.  
'God. Imagine having them inside your head – imagine having _Eric_ inside your head..' He groans and shudders a little. I shrug, thinking how I wouldn't really mind Eric being inside my anywhere. 'I hate this.' Charlie whispers next to me, and I'm grateful for the distraction.  
'I know, love. It's going to be okay, though. You've done so well.'  
Her face is tinged with green, and her hands shake uncontrollably. Her last fear had really pushed her past her breaking point; she'd ended up in medical after freaking out on Four before fainting on the floor of the fear room. She wouldn't tell us what it was, and Four couldn't – because of privacy and whatever. But when I asked anyway, I just couldn't let it go without trying, his lips had set in a thin line, almost disappearing. He'd shaken his head, dismissed me coldly. Not that I'm not used to the frost – he's been ignoring me ever since he realised I know his real identity, and why he left it behind. 'It's not real, sweetie. Just remember that. It may be awful when you're in there, but it doesn't last that long. And hey! We get to celebrate later, so we can drink our terror away.' Zed, the Dauntless born who had placed just above me in the last set of rankings, at second, winks as she tries to reassure Charlie. It doesn't really work, but her smile doesn't fade. 

\-- 

Four whispers his trademark phrase before I go under, in front of every Dauntless leader – and also, for some strange reason, Jeanine Matthews is here. I frown as I catch sight of her, dressed impeccably, blond hair smoothed back, eagle eyes wide and hungry. Even Four looks a bit uncomfortable with her presence, and I don't get time to question him before I lose grip on reality and fall into the abyss. I'm drowning, and the now-familiar rush of panic crashes on top of me, as I struggle to push my heavy body up towards the surface. My lungs strain for air, but I remember – this is not real. I allow myself to go limp, slowly sinking further down.. and wake up again, bone-dry. The faces of everyone I love surround me, contorted in hateful snarls, telling me how much they hate me, how they never cared- Jay, Charlie, Gabriel, Peter, even Eric is there. I stand my ground, blocking out their voices, watching them leave me one by one, ignoring the lump in my throat and the sudden feeling of being desperate to run after then and beg them to stay.  
The scene morphs and twists, and I'm strapped to a chair, wrists, feet and knees bound painfully tight. Gabriel and Jay are being subjected to harrowing methods of torture, blood coating their skin, slick and crimson, tears running down the sides of their torn, bruised faces as they plead with me to help. I struggle against my restraints, feeling the thick rope cutting into my skin as I do so- _its not real_. It takes a moment, but I relax into the chair, taking big, deep breaths. The scene changes- I'm standing, a gun heavy in my hand, a faceless innocent now tied in a similar fashion to another chair. That deep, sourceless voice booms around the room, authoritative and loud. 'SHOOT.'  
I raise my arm, mouth an apology, and pull the trigger, before dropping the gun. It hasn't even yet the floor yet when I'm standing on the edge of a cliff, two buzzers attached to two glass-lifts hovering on a knives breath away from the thousand feet drop. In one, Gabriel is pressed against the glass, eyes teary, body shaking. In the other, ninety nine strangers are doing the same, some are mothers holding babies, fathers holding sons – I have to choose one to fall, and I know it isn't real, so I don't hesitate to save my brother. Another room; no doors, no windows, the walls inch closer. My chest constricts, breathing becoming heavier as the ceiling lowers and the floor rises, slowly coming together to crush me like a grape. I sit on the floor, head between my knees - _not real, not real, not real,_.. - and I don't look up until I feel a scorching heat against my back. My house is on fire, and I'm trapped inside- the flames lick against the doorframe, melting down the silver handle, making escape impossible. I open the window, almost choking on the sulphur I can taste in the air – this one is the hardest to get through, everything seems too hot and too smokey to not actually be happening – and it takes all my courage to kick the glass out of the window, and throw myself four floors to the grassy ground. Again, before I've hit the ground, I wake on the floor in a barn that seems all-too familiar. The voices reverberate around the room, and again, without my brain telling it to, my body lunges forward, knocks the other boy down- the words murderer ring in my ears even after I wake from the simulation. The Leaders and nodding, smiling, and Four gives me a discreet thumbs up as I leave. The sound of a door opening and closing makes me look back.

Eric crosses the floor, and he's wearing an expression that puts me on edge. 'Hey, what's- HEY!' I yell, as he drags me outside, hand curled too tight around my wrist. 'Eric, let me go.' I ask, calmly.  
He just stares at me; and the worst part is, he doesn't even look angry. He looks.. kind of shocked, actually. It's like he's in some sort of a daze, and I shove at his chest with my free hand. I can already feel the bruises forming along the other.  
'You're hurting me.' This seems to jolt him back into reality, and he loosens his grip immediately, but doesn't let go. He's still staring at me, almost confused, face screwed up as he tries to sort out whatever it is he wants to say. 'What's wrong, Eric?' 

He seems to struggle with the words, before finally grinding out a question that makes my stomach drop, right down and out onto the floor with a bloody splatter, between my feet.

'Why the fuck was my brother in your last fear?' '

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How was this?? I was so nervous posting this. It will all (hopefully!) make more sense as the next few chapters unfold.. but, yeah- plot twist! 
> 
> Good or bad? Let me know in the comments! Thanks for reading this, all of you. Unbeta'd, unedited, and I don't own Divergent etc etc.


	31. Back To The Start

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _questions of science, science and progress, do not speak as loud as my heart_

I don't sleep well the night after the final test. I wake early, shaking, a dream already slipping out of my reach. The clock on the wall reads 05:39. My mind is buzzing, unusally alert- I know trying to get back to sleep is pointless. So I stand, grabbing some clothes, creeping towards the bathroom with a pair of shoes hanging from one hand. I dress quickly, skinny jeans and a thick hooded jumper, glancing towards the mirror. My hair sticks up at odd angles, my eyes are empty, hollow, yet somehow still haunted. Purple half-moons are stamped beneath each green eye, and I feel slightly sick and shaky. My stomach rolls with nausea the more I stand still, and I swear my bones are shivering beneath my skin with the urge to move. Staying in one place makes me face the thoughts swirling at top speed around my head, and I can't stand to be alone with my mind rightt now. Moving through the deserted Pit, I breathe a sigh of relief when I get out of the compound, uninterrupted. I'm not in the mood for chatter right now- being asked where I'm going, why I'm up, how do I feel about the final rankings being put up today. I can't even bring myself to care where I place- first or last, I'd feel the same either way. Scared, fragile. Confused. 

I hop on the first train to rumble past, hauling my body into the compartment, standing at the door to watch the scenery rushing past in a blur. Abnegation is a staid, dull grey, whereas Erudite brightens to blues and silvers, before the landscape becomes lush and green, as the train nears Amity. My stomach swoops at the thought of seeing Gabriel, after all this time. I suddenly realise how shocked he'll be at my appearance. I have more muscle, defined by the tight clothing Dauntless are so fond of, short, dark hair and a tattoo. My flames, uncontained fire. Maybe my fire is the type that should be contained; locked away, key melted down for good measure. That way, I can't hurt people. Gabriel probably looks different now, too, I muse. He'll be more tanned from working out in the sun, his hair and eyes will be lighter. He, too, will have gained muscle from all of the hard work being done on the farms and irrigation systems. My heart aches; I miss him.

Of course, many of the Amity are already up and out at work; ploughing, sowing, harvesting. A familiar laugh tugs my attention, loud yet soft, a sound of pure and utter happiness. At the edge of the forest, I must cut a threatening figure; all in black, hood up, peering around a thick trunk trying to catch a glimpse of my twin- _there._ He seems to have gotten taller, and his once-shoulder length hair has grown a little past that now. It is lighter, as I would have assumed, and there's a deep tan settling across his skin. He holds a scythe, slicing through stalks of corn, chattering away to a girl in a yellow sundress, her own hair falling past her waist, plaited neatly. A fond smile grows on my lips as I watch Gabriel plucking a wild flower – a cowslip, I think – from the ground, tucking it behind her ear, while she blushes and giggles. Guilt twists in my gut like a serrated blade; what was I thinking? I can't bring him into this. Not my gentle, flower-picking brother, who now wears Amity's trademark yellow slacks and a loose red shirt, as well as the peaceful grin brightening his features. I sigh, nostalgia for days gone past, when it was me and him, him and me, against the world- a younger version of us, a girl with long blonde hair and carefree eyes, a boy with a toothy grin and a helping hand always stretched out for those who needed it.  
I can't drag him into my shit. With a silent sigh, I take one last look before turning away, and slipping back between the shelter of the tree's. 

\--

I can't think of anywhere else to go – at the moment, returning to Dauntless is not an option. Eric wants answers- and I haven't got any. Maybe returning to the place where this all started will help coax more memories from my spinning mind. Mom and Dad should still be in bed- for a while, at least. On the train ride over to my old home, I replay the events of last night in my head.  
Eric demanding to know why his brother was in my fear landscape, the shell-shocked expression on his face. Jay wanting to know what that was all about, my obvious lie about being down on my time to his disappointment. Charlie waking from her landscape kicking and screaming, fat tears sliding down her cheeks, the leaders exchanging worried looks as she was led out a seperate door to the rest of us. Not having time to wonder just what terrified my friend so badly she couldn't face it without completely shattering. I was shattering myself, selfishly, watching the world as I had known it before crumble around me. How Eric didn't turn up at dinner, how Uriah's brother, Zeke had to step in for Eric during a leader's meeting. Uriah asked why, and Zeke had simply shrugged. 'Apparently Eric's taking a few days off. Something to do with his family needing him.' I almost threw up at the tall, dark and handsome man's words. Had Eric already run back to his parents, to let them know he had finally found his brother's – their son's – killer? I jumped everytime someone walked in or out of the dorm; terrified that it would be a Candor official, here to take me in for questioning. What would I even say? Would the truth serum help me remember the things I needed to know? 

\--

This barn is the same; the light green paint has faded, now dirtied and peeling off the walls, but aside from that, everything appears to be in order. Except for the boxes, up on the loft. Where I saw myself killing a person, in cold blood, shoving him to the ground with a quick, thoughtless shove.  
I swallow hard, stepping closer to the steep, wooden ladder leading up. Part of me thinks I should maybe climb to the top, but something roots me to the ground, holding me in place.  
A shiver runs through my spine; I'm standing on bloodied ground. This is the place where Joey Coulter passed away- seemingly, by my hand.  
Joey. That's the name that has escaped me for all these years, the blonde boy with cold, clinical eyes and freezing cold hands. I get flashes of him slapping me, only when Michael couldn't see, can hear his smarmy voice whispering in my ear; 'just stay quiet like a good little girl, Lexie.'  
My neck tingles, with the ghost of a deep ache settling around my throat. I still can't remember- did I really kill him? How else could he have fallen? He wasn't that near the edge; I remember that much.

A crash sounds around the barn, loud and echoing- I spin around to look for the source of the noise. My throat tightens; and I take a single step closer to where the clatter came from.  
And there- out of the shadows, out of the ghosts swarming around and whispering quietly in the dark, steps my brother.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * I do not own Divergent. Title & summary from Coldplay - 'The Scientist.' 
> 
> Almost finished.. into the last few chapter's now! Wondering just what the hell happened with Alex and Joey?  
> Sit tight.. you'll find out soon.


	32. Unlocking The Past

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The truth about what happened all those years ago is finally revealed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel really nervous posting this. It's probably a disappointment, or anti-climactic or something.. if it's terrible, please do tell me. At first I thought it was a good idea, but now I'm not so sure. Anyway- thanks for reading! Unbeta'd. Unedited. I do not own Divergent etc.

Michael looks ragged, ash-blond hair sticking up at odd angles, as if he's been running his hands through it. 'It's time you knew the truth, Alex.'   
I open my mouth to speak, but nothing comes out. How does he know what I'm here for? I find myself blinking back tears, unsure of why I want to cry all of a sudden.   
He steps forward, into the light, revealing the purple half-moons shadowing his blue eyes, a weariness tugging the corners of his mouth into a frown. 'Can you remember anything?' 

'I-' My voice cracks on the first word, and I can't stop a few tears from running down my cheeks.   
'A little. But I don't know what bits are real, and what bits I've made up.' I swallow hard, trying to move the lump that has formed in my throat, closing it so that I find it difficult to breathe properly.   
Michael nods. 'Why don't you tell me what you remember? I'll tell you what's true, and what's fantasy.' 'Why should I trust you?' Michael seems to deflate a little, and he sighs. 'Because I've spent too long trying to push the memories to the back of my mind. When I realised you were starting to remember what had happened, I felt so guilty. I promise I'll tell you the truth.' His eyes are open and honest, and I cannot detect any hint of deception in his tone. Just sincerity.  
'And his brother- Joey's brother – came looking for me, last night. Some guy from Dauntless. When he mentioned he was a Coulter, I knew. It had to be something to do with what had happened.'   
That's where Eric went, to get answers.   
I nod, looking down at my feet, covered in a layer of dust from the floor.   
Clearing my throat, I begin. 

'I remember being here, when Joey died. He was up there,' I point to the ledge, my gaze lingering up there for a few moments. 'And you were down here, on the ground. You were arguing about something- about me, I think. Whatever it was, you were really tearing each other's heads off over it. I was behind all the empty boxes and crates that used to be piled up, and I could hear you. I- I was watching Joey, and then-' My mind is screaming at me to shut the fuck up, now, before I say something stupid, before I say something that will cause this fragile facade of sanity to come crumbling down on top of me.   
'And then..?' Michael encourages gently, and I feel his gaze searching my face, my tear-stained cheeks, my watery eyes. 'And then.. I stepped forward and.. I pushed him.' My face crumples when the words hit the air, and the feeling of finally having admitted to myself what I had done, all those years ago, hits me like a tonne of bricks to the chest. I cry harder, unable to hold back anguished sobs, my shoulder's shaking. 'You didn't push him, Alex.' Michael informs me, and I look at him, shaking my head furiously. 'I did! I saw it! In my dreams, and in my fear landscape-' A choked sob cuts me off, and I press my fist into my mouth, biting down on my knuckles to try and stop myself from completely falling apart.   
'That's your subconscious trying to make sense of the fragments of memory you have. You weren't to blame for what happened.'   
'Then who is?' 

Michael holds out his arms, like an eagle, gesturing to himself. 'Me. Well, both of us, really.'   
I blink, feeling my wet lashes brushing off my cheek as I do.   
'Tell me. Tell me the truth, then.' 

As he speaks, I feel myself beginning to space out, the words rushing like water past me.   
'You were always such an angry child, Alex. You get suspended on the first day of second class. Mom and Dad used to worry about you – getting yourself in trouble, because you couldn't control your temper. We thought you might grow out of it. But it kept happening. You kept losing your temper. And someone ended up hurt – usually, you. You'd always go for the guys bigger than you.'   
'I went for anyone who was bullying another kid.' I whisper tightly, and he glances up at me. 'True.' He concedes. 'But mom and dad, they were scared.'   
'Of me?'   
He hesistates before continuing on. 'You weren't a bad kid. You just had some.. behavioural issues. They weren't afraid of you, more afraid of what you could do.'   
I start crying again, not wanting to listen to anymore- but unable to walk away.   
Michael sits on an old bench, rusted, and I sit on the other end, as far away from him as I can manage. He notices; I can tell by the way his face falls. I don't care if it hurts him.   
'I used to talk to Joey about it. That's what best friends are for, right? People you can talk to me about everything, and anything, people you can trust-' He breaks off, sounding pained, shaking his head. 'I didn't know what he'd do. I didn't know.' He says this more to himself than anything else, as though trying to assauge the guilt he feels.   
'What did he do, Michael?' I ask, tears still running silently down my face. I manage to keep my voice calm and steady, any other time, I would have been proud of myself. Now, I just feel sick.   
'Joey's mother worked in one of the Erudite labs. She was a serum expert- working on them, studying negative side-effects, improving the formulae to keep advancing forward. Joey heard her, one night, she came home late from work. She was raving to his father about some breakthrough they'd had on a new Amity serum. You know, the peace serum.'   
Peace serum. A child who can't control her temper. A control freak brother, with a control freak best friend. I think I can pretty much put the puzzle together from here, but I let him continuing, hoping that I'm wrong- even as vague memories stir themselves in the murky depths of my subconsciousness.   
'It was him who suggested it. He tagged along with mom to the labs all the time. She trusted him alone with her equipment. He stole some of the serum, and- and he brought it here.'   
Oh, god.   
'I thought it would help you.' He whispers weakly. The tears have stopped now, making way for a surge of anger and resentment to build up. 'I – I thought I could be the hero. The one to save you from yourself. I was so, so selfish. I let him- I let Joey inject you with that stuff.'   
'Without knowing if it was safe? If it worked?' I ask through gritted teeth.   
'It worked on the animals in the labs.' I let out a bitter laugh, more like a poisoned huff of air. 'So I was an animal, to you.' He shakes his head, vigorously. 'I wanted to help you.' He repeats, desperation leaking through his strained tone. 'But the serum – it had some really, really bad side effects on you. The most obvious one – memory loss.'   
Suddenly, a lot of things about my childhood start to make sense. Times where I would black out, lose a few hours of the day, not remembering what I'd done or who I was with- scary.   
'You also threw up a lot. The doctor's couldn't figure out what was wrong with you.'   
I remember that, too. Mom crying in the hallway, just outside my door. I was just back from the medical centre, having spent the previous two days throwing up anything I ate. I was weak, shaky, with a high fever- I honestly thought I was dying. So did everyone else. 'Because you were sick, you couldn't get the serum from him- us.' He corrects himself quickly.   
'You had withdrawals, too. And then Joey brought a new serum around. In Erudite the human trials for the serum we used on you, had gone as well for them as it did for us.'   
'No one thought to look at their symptoms and put two and two together?'   
'Why would they suspect you had anything like that in your system? You'd never been to Erudite in your life, let alone anywhere near the labs. No one had a clue.'   
'You did.' I point out quietly, two simple syllables coming off as an accusation.   
'I should have said something. I know. I was scared. I was so, so scared, Alex.'  
'How many serums did you inject me with?'   
'I lost count.' He admits, horrifying me.

'So, I was like.. I was like your guinea pig?' I ask, disbelief paralysing me. 'I never thought of it that way. I honestly thought what we were doing was going to help you.'   
'But you said the side effects came up almost immediately.' I move my head, meeting his eyes, wide and wet and pleading.   
'Why didn't you stop then?'   
'We thought they might wear off, after a while. And, like I said it wasn't always the same serum. It was different prototypes.'   
'But they didn't wear off. And you did it for- for how long? How old was I when it even started?'   
'You were nine.'   
I stare at my older brother, eyes wide with betrayal and disgust.   
'You saw what those serums did to me, and you did it for three fucking years?'   
Michael hangs his head, ashamed. 'Yes.' He whispers.  
Overwhelmed, I bury my face into my hands, sobbing. A hand touches my shoulder. I shove it away, jumping up like I've been electrified. 'Don't touch me.' I snarl, brokenly, through my tears.   
Michael looks distraught; what gives him the right to look so upset? I'm the one who was hurt by all of this- by all the things he helped his sicko friend do to me. 

'What really happened the day he died?'   
Michael inhales shakily, wiping away a few tears that have gathered at the corner of his eyes.   
'That morning, we'd tested another serum on you. It made you throw up, and then faint. You didn't wake up for ages. I panicked. I lifted you up and hid you behind all the boxes-' he points up, towards where the old crates used to be. 'To let you sleep it off. Joey helped-'   
I have to swallow bile at the thought of him being anywhere near me, touching me.   
'And he stood on top of the loft after I climbed back down. We- we got into an arguement. We thought you were still asleep. I said that I didn't think we should do it anymore – with you, and the serums. He didn't like that. Said I was a coward. Stupid. Just because you were – your body couldn't cope with the serums now, didn't mean you wouldn't eventually adjust to them. But you were stick thin- you were still throwing up regular. You barely ate, and spent most of your time awake running around like you were wired to the moon. It wasn't helping, it made you worse. 

Anyway. You had woken up, at some point during the confrontation. You must have tried to stand up.. you fainted. You collapsed, against the boxes, and they tumbled, coming down on top of Joey. It wasn't your fault. You were just a kid. What he- we – I let him do to you, wasn't fair. It was wrong, so, so wrong.' I lick my dry lips, stray tears escaping every few seconds as I listen to the story of what really happened. 

 

'I still don't remember most of what you just told me. That's – fuck. That's fucked up, Michael.'   
'I know that. I know that, and I just, I wish I had known it back then. I was stupid and easily led, and I let the idea of being the one to save you from yourself go to my head.'   
'Does Eric know the truth?' My brother looks surprised when I mention him, but he nods.   
'Yes. When he came in, asking questions, I sat down and told him everything.'   
'What did he say?'   
'He just said, 'you need to tell your sister.' And then he got up and he left.'   
'This was yesterday?' I clarify, worry trickling over me when he nods. He wasn't back at Dauntless this morning- I know because Zeke said he'd take a few days, plural. '  
'What made you decide to tell the truth? And how did you know I'd be here?'   
'I know you hate me, you did before I told you, so, it wasn't like I stood to lose you. I already did.'   
'Yeah, you did. A long time ago.' I agree, and I don't have to look to see his stricken face.  
'And I guess I knew you'd be here because.. because it's where everything started. And ended.' 

'It never ended. It's only ending now, now that I know the truth.'   
He nods slowly.  
'I don't expect you to ever forgive me..'   
'Good.' I snap, shortly. He casts his gaze out of the open doors, towards the house, where the sun is rising slowly behind it, a smudge of light pink on white-blue.  
'No-one else has to know.' I tell him. This startles him, and he stares at me.   
'Wait, what?' I shrug, shoving my hands in my pockets.   
'No one else has to know. I'm not gonna tell mom and dad, and I am definitely not telling Gabriel.'   
'You don't have to do that, for me, if that'-'   
'It's not.' I laugh, bitterly, in disgust. 'I don't owe you anything. I just want to move past this. I don't want them knowing. What they aren't aware of, can't hurt them.'   
I turn my head, to meet my brother's eyes, and neither of us have to say it to know that it's the last time we'll ever speak. Maybe not ever- we live in the same world, unfortunately. And a small world it is. What I mean is, we both know that things between us are far too damaged to mended. It's just too late. Without speaking, I nod a goodbye, not sure that I have the composure to say the words, before walking out the door, and returning to the train tracks.   
Overhead, a single goose flies slices through the clouds, singing a lonely song. I wonder, vaguely, what happened to it's mate. I'm pretty sure geese mate for life – to think that this one might be all alone in the world now is strangely comforting. How can I go back to living life as normal, now that know what I know? How do I face Eric? Or Jay?   
My heart thuds almost painfully, and I swear I can hear each beat sounding around the train's small, empty carriage. One question bounds with it, like hornets stinging my mind over and over and over, without mercy.

What do I do now?


	33. Nowhere to Run

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alex faces Eric for the first time after discovering how their pasts are connected. 
> 
> *Title from untitled // simple plan

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this is so short- the next chapter won't actually be the last, after all. I was writing this and I thought that I just needed this chapter to show how affected Alex actually is by everything; there'll be a more in-depth portrayal of Eric's reaction in the next part. Hope you enjoy! Thanks to all who have been sending me such kind messages about this fic- it's my first multi-chapter work, and I can't believe it's almost finished. Anyway, enjoy, and let me know what you think in the comments!

It's like the world has suddenly flipped itself upside down, smashed against the moon into a thousand tiny pieces. It's like learning that the sky is green and the grass is blue, and the things you were always sure of have turned out to be a lie. As if you've only just realised that the solid ground beneath your feet is all an illusion. 

The strange thing about it all is that nothing is the same, and yet, nothing is different. No one has stopped to notice that the world has suddenly started to spin in reverse. The fi'nal rankings are up by the time I arrive back at the compound. My fellow initiates are too drunk to see past their alcohol-and-excitement filled hazes. Jay jumps on my back, screaming wildly in my ear. 'WE MADE IT, LEX! WE MADE IT!' He doesn't notice when I shrug him off awkwardly, and plaster on a fake smile while I feign the feeling of delight. My eyes flicker to the scoreboard and I find my name in fourth place. Uriah is first, Jay is second, Zed third. I don't bother to check the rest, unable to care about my own score let alone anyone elses. I manage to slip away, into the shadows, walking down darkened corridors, trying to find a quiet place where I could fall apart, in peace. 

I find myself outside of Eric's door, and I reach out, pressing my palm against the light, cold wood. It gives me a sense of comfort; that I'm actually here, I'm living this, it's not just some weird and blurry dream. It feels that way. It's like I'm standing on the edge of a stage, watching scenes and acts unfold in front of my eyes. I am powerless to stop my fist from slicing through the air and hitting off the door, knocking loudly. Why do I even want to see him?   
I killed his brother. A cold, icy weight settles in my bones, dragging me down.  
It might have been an accident; I might have been drugged up, but I still killed Joey.

Eric opens the door; seemingly unsurprised to find me standing in the hallway. He says nothing, holding the door open to let me in. In his sitting room/kitchen, I'm suddenly overwhelmed with familiarity; the sight and the smell and the feel of his soft carpet under my boots, and it's like a punch to the gut. He faces me, expression unreadable. I stare into his grey-blue eyes, searching for some kind of emotion, for forgiveness, for hatred, for resentment. 

'Are you okay?' He asks, in a low, hushed murmur. The concern in his tone stabs like a knife straight through the heart. I don't deserve his concern, his worry. His affection.. his love.  
'I'm..' I stop, searching for any word, any way at all, to at least half-describe the way I'm feeling right now. 

'I feel numb. I feel hollow.' Eric nods, stepping closer. 'Do you want to be alone?'   
The question seems ridiculous, I'm his flat. I don't expect him to leave his own home because of me.   
I look up, and shake my head. 'No. No, I really don't want to be alone right now.'   
He holds out his arms and I walk forward, straight into them. Curling my head into his neck, I breathe in the warm, familiar scent that is one hundred percent Eric, and nothing else. Cinnamon, and sweat and lemon. I tighten my arms around his neck, feeling the levy inside me breaking once again. He backs us both up onto the couch, sitting down and pulling me onto his lap.   
I sob into his shoulder, and he just holds me, keeps me stable when the tremors of shock and upset and anger threaten to rumble right through and crack my bones. He doesn't speak, knowing there are no words that could ever make this better.   
He's here. He's here, and he cares, even if he shouldn't and he's holding me and it is all I can ask of him right now.   
It is all he can give, so he gives it, without needing to be asked.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not sure when I'll be able to start writing the next part - my debs is tomorrow night, and the event itself lasts eighteen hours (!) and for the morning and afternoon I'll be in the hairdressers getting ready for it.. also, as it's an 18-hour thing I won't be home until six o'clock Wednesday morning, even then I'm staying in a friends house until I wake up, probably very hungover. I also have to pack for my holidays on Saturday! But I hope to start working on it Thursday. Just to let youse know what the story is :) Hope you're all having a good week, and that this Monday has been kind to you!


	34. Haunting Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _I was as pure as a river,  
>  but now I think I'm possessed.._
> 
> || title & summary from Halsey's 'Haunting' ||

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> welp, this was a long time coming. more notes below will explain the delay - hope this was worth the wait!

_He looks at me with empty blue eyes, wide and staring. His face is drained of color, lips a pale, dusty pink, turned down into a frown. I see no accusation in his expression; and maybe that's the worst thing. He looks at me with nothing but pity, a sour taste lingering at the back of my throat. He opens his mouth, unnaturally wide, distorted beyond normal proportions, and attempts to speak. All that comes out is a strange, guttural groan that scrapes at the edge of my spine, shivers running through my bones. I want to say something - I whisper 'I'm sorry,' weakly, the words seeming flat, pathetic. Joey gives me a sad look, shaking his head in a jarring, disjointed motion. Then, he turns, his body begin to disintegrate into shadow and atoms. I try to call him back - 'wait! don't go, not yet!' - but it's too late. He is gone, and I am alone, in the dark, heavy and cold._

******************************

I wake up with a jolt, in Eric's arms, his breathing slow and soothing. I can feel how steady his heart is beating, where my head rests against his chest. His arms tighten around me as I stir, and I look up at him. My head aches, my throat burns. My eyes are crusted with sleep, and I untangle my arms from around his neck to wipe it away. 

'We need to talk about this.' I croak, wincing at the hoarse note to my voice. He closes his eyes, taking a deep, shuddering breath, before nodding and exhaling slowly, nodding. 'Yes, we do. But first.' Gently pushing me off his lap, he stands and stretches, a sliver of tanned skin showing from beneath his black shirt as it rides up. Any other time, I would have stared shamelessly, but now, I barely register his words. 'Food and water. Okay?' I hum my agreement, dragging the throw laid across the back of the couch and curling up inside the soft, warm fluffy cover. He brings out cheese and crackers, an apple, sliced into half-moons, glistening juicily. Two tall glasses of iced water, condensation dripping down the side, and I realize how thirsty I am. There's two bowls of noodles, releasing steam in spirals, and a couple of slices of brown bread, buttered generously.  
He lowers the food, carried in on a dark tray, onto the coffee table, and I reach for the water first. 

'Woah, careful there..' Eric pulls the glass from my hold. 'Sip it. You'll make yourself sick. His voice is stern but also gentle. My eyes burn with tears I can no longer cry, because I think I may be all dried up. I don't deserve this.  
'Yes, you do.' I blink, startled. Did I say that out loud?  
'Yes, you did.' I glance at Eric, seeing the barest hint of amusement glittering behind the surface. 'Eat.' He demands softly, and so, I do. The noodles are wet and flavored, chicken flavored to be exact. The bread is fresh and filling, and the apple delicious. The cheese is just the right texture, smooth and thick but not hard, the dry wheat crackers complimenting the flavor. After, I sit back, sipping on the water, while Eric pulls his legs up beneath him, getting comfortable. When I glance his way, he looks so much younger, much more vulnerable. I see the similarities between him and Joey, random connections I never made before. The odd cowlick in his hair, when he doesn't have it slicked back.

The iciness to his blue eyes, the difference here is, that I have seen the ice in Eric's eyes melt, and not once did I see a hint of a thaw in Joey's. Their skin is the same golden tan, and, thinking back, I remember hearing the same sneer in Eric's voice whenever he was angry at an initiate. The memory has me curling in closer on myself, nuzzling into the fluffy blanket that holds Eric's scent. He heaves a sigh next to me, and in my peripheral vision I see him lift a hand to his temple. 

'Your brother told you everything then.'   
Am I imagining the sharp edge on the word brother? I swallow, hard, and nod. My hands shake beneath the protection of my blanket, and I hope Eric doesn't notice.  
Of course, he does. 'Alex, I'm not angry at you.' The words, thought soft, are like knives twisting into my gut, a wrenching pain stabbing through my belly. 'You should be.'   
He shakes his head. 'Jo- my brother.. he wasn't a good person.' From numb to borderline hysterical in point one second, I snap my gaze across to him and yell out, 'THAT DOESN'T MEAN HE DESERVED TO DIE!' Eric flinches, actually flinches, and that hurts. Hurts like salt being rubbed into a fresh wound, I wonder- do I scare him now?   
Now that he knows my hands are soaked in his family's blood, does he fear that I would, or ever could, hurt him the same way I hurt his brother? 

'I know, Alex, but what happened wasn't your fault. You weren't well, and that was because of him. Everything that went down, all that led up to that day, is on him. It will always be on him.' 'I killed him.' I whisper, staring down at my shaking fingers. 'No.'   
'Yes.'  
'No.'   
_'YES!'_   
Another flinch. Another twist of the knife. 

'When I found out what he did to you - that he was the one to give you these - ' I freeze when I feel skin brushing against the scars seared into my neck, Eric's calloused fingertips tracing their shape out slowly - 'let's just say, he's lucky he's not around anymore.' His voice turns dark towards the end of his sentence. 'You wouldn't have hurt him.' I protest weakly; surely he wouldn't have harmed his brother, in my defense? 'No. I would have killed him.' The words aren't a bluff; I know Eric well enough now to tell when he's serious, and these words are a steely and savage promise. I say nothing, once more curling into the comforter, so now I am a fluffy burrito, barely visible in the swath of fabric. The silence between us holds up for a long while, punctuated by his breathing, heavy and slow, and mine, stuttered and fast. The quiet stillness is broken when he stands abruptly, brushing stray crumbs off his dark jeans and vest, before grabbing a jacket and a heavy hoodie, tossing it my way. I'm so zoned out I don't notice until I have a face full of soft black jumper, that smells like Eric, like safety, like home. 'C'mon.' He jerks his head towards the door, motioning for me to follow. I don't move from where I am rooted on the couch. 'What?' 

'We're going out.'   
'Where?'  
'Field trip.' He replies shortly, beckoning me forward. I look down, shrugging off the blanket. I've been wearing the same clothes for two days straight, something I've only just realized. My eyes are probably puffy and swollen from crying and sleep, and when I yank at my tee shirt to sniff it, I cringe, the faint scent of sweat causing me to wrinkle my nose. 'I look like shit.'   
'You look fine.' He rolls his eyes, in a way that is so Eric, and so familiar, it almost makes me smile, before I catch myself. 'And anyway, no-one's gonna see you. Get a move on. Now.' The final word is laced with authority; his expression screaming leader. I sigh, standing with a sigh, moaning quietly as my spine clicks, my ankles pop and my shoulders crack pleasingly. Yanking on the hoodie, I pull the hood up over my head and follow Eric's footsteps warily, wondering where on Earth this awful journey into the past is going to take us next.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> soooo my life's been crazy busy the past while. i started college - doing theater performance! - so i've been caught up in new beginnings, drama both on and offstage, and also i will be moving away from home at the end of this week for the first time so i won't be commuting anymore! anyway, i can't promise anything but i do hope to be able to update more; this story is almost finished, and i will then restart working on my JW fic (Enchanted).


	35. Burning Bridges

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eric helps Alex begin to let go of the past.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, it has been so long since I last updated. Profuse apologies, my friends, things have been off-the-scale mad in my life for the past few months. Anyway, I hope this was worth the wait.

The cemetery located on the very, very outskirts of our city is an ominous place; old, crumbling headstones like broken teeth jutting out from the Earth are in haphazard lines, each grave enclosed with four short walls on each side to provide the families with the space to bury their loved ones. After a long train journey and an even longer hike, Eric leads me towards the rusted gates that mark the entrance to the land of the dead. Something halts me in my steps, as he continues, glancing back when my footsteps cease. I shake my head, fear and guilt wrapping around my throat, constricting my airway painfully. 'You have to face this, Alex.' Eric tells me, his voice soft but stern, hand resting on the bronze metal, warped and twisted by time. An elastic band around my chest makes my breathing heavier, more labored. How can I do this? 

Eric reaches his free hand out to me. He remains silent, steely eyes locked on me alone. After the band seems to have loosened, only slightly, I approach him slowly, falling into step next to him. Our hands brush together, gently, the heat sending jolts of electricity throughout my body. My mouth dries as he finds his way through the winding path, stepping over the worst of the old graves and leading me to a section where each headstone is tall and gleaming, winking in the early morning sunlight, as though taunting me. Sweat trickles slowly down my back; a cool breeze lifting the grass does nothing for the anxiety that seems to be escaping in liquid form from my skin. I see his headstone, the name carved into marble, two dates, one for his birth, one for his death. Below all that is a Latin phrase. 

_nostra etiam aetas reliquit vestigia veterum_

'He left a mark on our lives that even time can not erase.' Eric quotes, a bitter edge to the words. They hit me right where I'm weakest, and a wave of nausea engulfs me wholly. Well, his parents certainly weren't wrong. As all the emotions built up over the past few weeks envelope me, my knees buckle and I hit the hard ground with a thud. Eric places a hand on my shoulder as the sobbing starts, loud, hysterical screams that echo in the space around us both. The sobs wrack through my entire body, each inhale like glass tearing through my chest. He says nothing, but the warm reminder of his hand on my shoulder brings me back to myself, steadying the tears, as they continue to roll silently down my face and I stare at the grave that holds the body of the boy with cold hands and a colder heart. 'If he were here now, what would you say to him?'

Eric's question comes abruptly, out of the blue. I glance up, confused. 'If you had one more chance to speak to him, what would you say?' I blink a few times, eyelashes webbed with tears, then turn back to look at the headstone. I hesitate. 'Go on.' He encourages, gently. 'Say it. Get it out.' For one seemingly endless moment, I fear that there are no words. Then, I open my mouth, and the dam breaks down completely. 

'I'm sorry. I'm sorry for what happened that day in the barn. But it wasn't- it wasn't my fault. I was a kid. Just a kid. And I know you were, too, and Michael. But the things you did to me, were wrong. You were in the wrong. You gave me serums that poisoned me, my body and my mind, and all for the sake of trying to be clever. Trying to be .. trying to be something more than a mad scientist with me as your guinea pig. I will never, ever forgive my brother for any of it. But something inside of me is telling me to forgive you. Maybe it's the guilt - maybe, that guilt will never really go away. But maybe I want to forgive you because it's the only way I can let you go. Your ghost has been haunting me for so long now, and forgiving you releases me from that hell. So, there it is. I guess I forgive you. I do forgive you. Only because it will set me free, I forgive the things you did. You're gone, you're dead.. but I'm still alive, and I need to start living. You won't hold me back, not anymore. I won't allow you to. You're gone, and I forgive you. Goodbye, Joey.' 

As the words spill out, in between hiccoughed sobs and breathy pauses, a weight seems to lift off my chest, off my shoulders. Eric helps me to my feet, and when I meet his gaze, his eyes are clear and a small smile graces his lips. He brushes away the remaining tears gently, his calloused thumb tracing their path along my face. I close my eyes, and breathe in steadily, opening my eyes as I exhale. His hand leaves my face, only to find mine and twine our fingers together. 'How do you feel now?' He asks, eyes flickering over my face warily. I nod, and smile, really smile, for the first time in what feels like forever. 'I feel... Finally, I feel like I'm free.' 

He bends down, lips meeting mine chastely, and as we exit the cemetery together, hand in hand, I don't look back. I leave the past with Joey, and hope that my future will be brighter. And, for the first time, that doesn't seem impossible.


	36. From Now, Onwards

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The final chapter in this work, which has taken me months and months of blood, sweat, and tears. I hope you have enjoyed reading Alex's story, as much as I have enjoyed writing it.

'I am not letting Uriah near me with a sharp item of any kind - let alone one that can permanently burn a design into my skin!' Jay insists, crossing his arms over his chest and taking a defensive step back. The tattoo artist in question rolls his eyes and laughs; 'Like I would risk my job by doing anything other than what a client asks me to do!

I laugh; watching the two boys bicker over Uriah's questionable responsibility and Jay's need to not end up with a poorly sketched penis inked onto his back. Tori shakes her head, eyes rolling to the back of her head. 'Why did I ever think giving him a job here was a good idea?' She whispers. Uriah attempts to coax Jay into the chair; but my friend leaps up as Uriah cackles after a poorly-timed joke about hairy testicles and Jay's forearm. 'Uh-uh. Not happening.' Jay shakes his head. 'No. Nope. No way.' Uriah falls back into the chair himself, always the dramatic one. 'I'll do it.' I volunteer. Tori gives me a look, that says _your funeral_. 

Uriah's face lights up, and I settle myself in the chair. A shadow falls from behind me, I know who it is by Uriah's reaction. He backs away a little, looks down at the ground. Jay retreats to the corner, eyes glowing with irritation. 

My favorite voice reaches my ears as the person it belongs to crouches down next to me. 'What are you getting done?' I look at Uriah, then back to Eric, and shrug. 'It's a surprise.' He raises a pierced brow, expression one of half-amusement, half-concern. 'You sure about this?' I nod, unable to stop the grin from spreading over my face. The past two weeks have been tough; I'd still struggled with guilt, and fear, and woke up in the middle of the night screaming and sweating and swearing. Reaching for the ghost of a boy long gone; the ghost of a boy I refused to let haunt me any longer. Eric was always there when I did jerk awake, fearful and crying. He held me tight and rocked me, soothed me with words of forgiveness and letting go. He has been my rock through all of this; Jay regards him darkly from the corner of the room, and I sigh. When I had finally found the strength to take Jay out into a quiet, empty field in the middle of the night to explain my weird behavior over the course of our initiation, he was angry. Confused, then shocked, then a little upset, but mostly angry - angry that I hadn't come to him, that I'd turned to Eric in lieu of my childhood best friend. I had explained that it wasn't like that, not at all, not even a little. That Eric had just happened to be there when the memories started coming back; I explained that I was scared of myself for a while and didn't know how to explain it, and he tried to understand. A part of him still resents Eric, and probably always will. I smile at him across the room, and he smiles back. We're getting there, the trust, the easy friendship. We're getting there.

I'm getting there - there being a place where I can finally leave this nightmare behind me. Move on, and be happy with my new life in Dauntless, with Eric and Uriah and Jay. I've learned that, to release the past, you have to face it.. and I have finally done that. I want to go forward now, instead of looking back. As the familiar buzzing starts up and I feel the somehow-comforting sting of sharp needle against my collarbone, I close my eyes, relax. No more looking back.


End file.
